Clearing the Air
by devane
Summary: Sometimes, when you've pushed things too far, there's no way to come back... Brian made a choice he'll have to live with and now Michael will have to suffer the consequences... Michael/Brian circa season 5
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: ** The characters in this story belong to CowLip Productions, Showtime, and all other creative entities affiliated with the show. No infringement intended; I'm merely "borrowing" the boys.

**Author's Notes:** This takes place during season 5 when Michael and Brian are at odds over their lifestyle choices, primarily the custody of Jenny Rebecca. I have taken certain liberties with the story.

**Dedication:** To all the fabulous posters at The Dynamic Duo Haven—your support is amazing, thank you!

**Chapter 1**

"Hi Daddy!" five-year-old Gus Marcus-Peterson exclaimed, running over to his father who had arrived to watch him for the evening. His mother Lindsay had an important meeting to attend for work and Mel wasn't an option.

"Hi Sonny Boy," greeted Brian as he opened his arms and gave his son a hug.

"There's pizza for dinner. You'll just have to nuke it." Lindsay told Brian as she put on a shawl.

"Pizza? Not granola?" Brian was surprised. Wasn't Lindsay supposed to be the health nut?

"You try having time to buy organic and make healthy things…or the money," she added with a bit of a bitter, exasperated sound in her voice.

Brian rolled his eyes at his friend. Was he supposed to feel sorry for her? She wasn't the only woman who had ever done this on her own. And he always gave her plenty of money for Gus.

"There's milk to drink," she added on second thought.

"No beer?" Brian whined.

Lindsay narrowed her eyes at him. "The milk is for our son. I'm not sure what else is in there, you'll have to check in the fridge."

"Fine, whatever."

"He'll need a bath before bedtime."

"Yeah, yeah I've got it down by now, Linds."

Brian may not be the best, most hands-on, 24-7 father, but he wasn't completely incompetent when it came to his son.

"Great. I shouldn't be later than 11. I'll check my cell every now and again so if there's an emergency," she rambled.

"Call Smelly Melly?"

She gave him a sigh. "You don't have to do that, you know."

"Do what? Call her 'Smelly Melly' or call her period?"

Rolling her eyes, the blonde told him, "Either. It's unnecessary."

"You'd think that since you two are on the outs you'd be fine with me calling your ex names."

"Just because she's my ex, it doesn't mean I've stopped caring about her. She's still Gus's mother and Jenny Rebecca's."

Brian clammed up because thinking about Jenny Rebecca meant thinking about her father and things were strained between him and Michael, due to the custody issue, amongst other things.

After checking her purse to make sure she had everything, Lindsay gave her son a hug and kiss. "Mommy will see you in the morning, sweetheart."

"Bye Mommy!" he chirped happily and then ran back to the kid's table in the living room where he had been seated, drawing.

"Bye Mommy," Brian sang as he kissed Lindsay on the cheek and she glared at him before exiting.

"Okay, Sonny Boy, it's just me and your old Pop," Brian said, slumping onto the uncomfortable couch. _This is a piece of crap_, he thought. _Why is it that Mel got the good couch?_ It didn't dawn on him that that was technically Mel's couch and her house.

He pulled out his vibrating cell phone from his back pocket and saw that there was a message from Justin. One that he had no intention of responding. Justin knew that Brian was watching Gus tonight. In fact, he'd asked Brian if he could "tag along" to help watch him, but Brian didn't want or need him there. He _was_ capable of watching Gus on his own.

A few minutes later, Brian peered over his shoulder at his son whose little face was scrunched up in concentration. Before making a comment on the picture, Brian decided to ask what it was because sometimes kids could draw really weird things and he didn't want to get it wrong. Hell, sometimes adults could too—he didn't always 'get' Justin's art.

"What are you drawing there, Sonny Boy?"

"Jenny."

"Jenny you mean, Jenny Rebecca?" he asked to be certain.

Gus's brown head nodded as he continued his drawing. "Yup."

"Is that for you to hang in your room?"

The little head shook no. "Are you giving it to someone?" A nod and Brian asked who.

"Unca Mikey," was his son's innocent reply.

"This is for Uncle Michael? How come?" he wondered with genuine curiosity. It's not as if Michael didn't have a hundred photos of his daughter lying all over the house—not that he'd been there recently but he didn't have to, to know that—why would he need a drawing?

"Because he's sad," was the innocent explanation.

Michael's sad? "How do you know that?"

"Mommy and I saw him in the park. He was crying."

Brian tensed up at the thought of his best friend crying in the park.

"Was Un..," began Brian who then changed his mind because Benjamin Bruckner was _not_ Gus's uncle. "Was anyone with him?"

Another shake of his head. "He was all alone. He was holding her bunny."

"Oh?"

Gus nodded as he colored in his sister's hair. "He misses Jenny," was Gus's next astute observation.

"Poor Unca Mikey." Gus frowned as he looked up at his daddy. "Why can't he see Jenny?"

Oh shit. What was Brian going to say? That he was partly to blame because he gave Linds the name of a bulldog lawyer who smeared Michael's name in court? And the money to finance it? Not exactly something that a five-year-old could understand. Sometimes he wasn't sure that _he_ understood.

"That's up to Jenny Rebecca's mother," he finally said.

Hazel eyes gazed into hazel eyes. "Mommy Mel. I miss her. I miss Jenny. I miss Unca Mikey. He used to come over a lot."

"To see your …Jenny Rebecca?" Sometimes it amazed Brian that his son and Michael's daughter were siblings…not through blood but in all other ways that mattered.

"He always came to see me and play. He would read me stories and make some up and be silly. And we played with Jenny. I love him," Gus told his father so simply.

It touched him how much Gus seemed to adore Michael. And how could he blame his son when he felt the same way? Michael was great with kids, always had been. They flocked to his kind, caring, generous nature and his spirit which could be child-like at times.

"He loves you too." That was the truth. Although Michael initially had many hesitations over Brian having a child with Lindsay, he was still excited for his friend. He bought all these presents for Gus and quite frankly spent more time with him than _Brian_ himself had.

"He doesn't visit me. Mommy Mel doesn't like him.. And Mommy won't let him come. She says it's not right what he's doing."

Brian's eyes narrowed at that. "How do you know?"

"I heard them. They were on the phone."

Fighting, Brian assumed but did not say so to his son.

"Mel and your Mom are upset. With each other and with Michael."

Gus finished his drawing of his sister and then decided to add a bunny to it, in honor of her favorite stuffed toy, a yellow bunny named Alex. The same bunny that Michael had been holding at the park. Gus remembered that his uncle gave that to Jenny the day she came home from the hospital.

"Is Jenny's bunny named Alex?" Brian asked suddenly, looking at the bubble over the bunny's head which read "Alex."

Shaking his head, Gus said, "His name is Alex Anda. I can't spell that."

Grinning, Brian asked his son, "You mean Alexander?"

Gus nodded. "Yep!"

"Did you name him for your sister?"

"No. Unca Mikey did. He gave Alex to Jenny."

He did? For some reason, it touched Brian to know that Michael gave his daughter a bunny that he named Alexander—after Brian's own middle name. At least that's who he supposed the bunny was named after.

"Mommy's mad at Unca Mikey."

"Gus," began Brian who hedged, wondering how he could explain this to his young son. "I didn't say mad, I said upset." Ugh, he felt like an idiot; as if a five-year-old can differentiate between mad and upset.

"Why? Unca Mikey is so nice, why could is Mommy mad at him?" This did not make sense to Gus' young mind.

Brian swallowed. "It's…complicated." What a shit answer.

Gus stopped his drawing and stood next to his dad. "It's because of Jenny," he whispered.

"What?" Brian croaked.

"Mommy Mel and Mommy don't want him around Jenny. But he's her daddy."

"Yeah, Sonny Boy, he is."

"Can't they just get along?"

Brian didn't have an answer for his son. He simply ruffled Gus' hair and then went into the kitchen to put the pizza in the microwave before bringing it over to Gus to eat. The little artist had finished his drawing—which wasn't bad for a five-year-old—and he ate contentedly in his father's lap.

After dinner was finished, Gus played with his toys while Brian watched him and then he gave his son a bath and put him to bed. Clutching his stuffed dinosaur (a gift from Uncle Michael), Gus looked up at his father and said, "Tell Unca Mikey I love him. And Jenny loves him too."

Chest constricting, Brian nodded and promised his son that he would do just that. "Good night, Sonny Boy."

"Good night Daddy," Gus said with a smile, reaching up for a hug which his father returned and then to Brian's surprise, Gus kissed him on the cheek before snuggling into bed.

Brian turned on Gus's night light and then shut off the light switch before exiting the room. Sighing, he plopped onto the uncomfortable couch and ran his fingers through his hair before grabbing the remote and turning on the TV.

"Go- damn it," he yelled in frustration. "No fucking cable? What the fuck, Linds?" There was decidedly nothing on television at that time and it was too early for Letterman or Conan. He contemplated getting on Lindsay's PC and going to his favorite sites but nixed that idea in favor of calling Michael. Thanks to his son, Brian couldn't stop thinking about his best friend who seemed, in the estimation of the five-year-old, sad because of the situation with Jenny Rebecca.

Grabbing his cell, he flipped it open and pressed "1" on Speed Dial—yes, Michael was his number one contact. He couldn't think of anyone else that deserved the spot.

Michael's cell rang and rang and no answer. _Answer the g-dammed phone_, Brian yelled to no one. Finally, he reached voicemail and left a terse message. "Mikey, pick up your fucking phone. We need to talk. Call me back."

He closed his phone and sat on the couch with nothing but his thoughts to occupy his time. He could really go for a joint about now to calm him down.

Every 15 minutes he called Michael's cell and hung up when there was no answer. Finally he called Cynthia and asked her for the number to Michael's new house. The blonde assistant was surprised that he didn't have that one memorized yet, it was _Michael_, after all, but Brian hadn't bothered to use it in the month since his best friend had moved onto Stepford Avenue.

The professor's voice filled the answering machine, much to Brian's chagrin. Annoyed by that and by his friend not returning his calls, Brian grunted, "Pick up your fucking phone, Novotny and CALL ME." Before he hung up, he decided to change tactics. "Mikey, Gus told me to tell you…"

And just like that, his cell buzzed, the screen revealing Michael's name and cell number. With a satisfied smirk, Brian hung up on Michael's landline and then answered his cell. "Took you fucking long enough," he growled.

"What do you want, Brian?" came Michael's annoyed response.

"Who says I want anything?"

"It's you, you almost always want something."

This wasn't untrue. Still, he didn't appreciate it pointed out to him. "That's not a nice way to greet your best friend."

He could hear Michael sighing on the other end. "I'm not in the mood, Brian."

"Are you ever, anymore, Mikey?" Brian couldn't stop himself from asking.

Michael hesitated before responding. "I haven't had much to be…never mind," he corrected. "Why did you bring Gus into this? Whatever it is that could have waited, by the way, you didn't need to invoke your son's name."

Stretching his legs out, Brian said, "I'm not using Gus. He made me promise to tell you something."

"Oh?" Michael asked, now believing Brian.

"Yeah. I'm watching him tonight for Linds—" he started but his friend cut him off.

"You?"

"She had some work thing, I don't know or frankly care and she couldn't get anyone else…" his voice trailed off.

Anyone else meaning she wasn't going to ask Mel and anyone else meaning she wouldn't ask _Michael_, of all people. "I would have," he began but then changed his mind. "It doesn't. Yeah."

His voice sounded odd, which Brian picked up on.

"What's wrong, Mikey?"

"Nothing. So what did Gus want?"

"To tell you that he loves you and that Jenny does too." Brian's voice was soft and gentle as he said this, thinking of how serious his son had been.

Michael gave a barely audible gasp and Brian was certain that tears were pooling inside his friend's chocolate orbs. "He, he did?" Michael stuttered softly.

Nodding, Brian said that he did.

"Tell him that I love him too, both of them," he added quietly.

"I did."

"Oh." Michael was quiet and Brian was trying to get a feel on his friend's mood, but he found it difficult.

"What brought this about?"

Was Brian going to admit that Gus and Linds saw a depressed Michael crying in the park? Or share the observations of a five-year-old that Michael missed Jenny Rebecca and that his moms were fighting about it?

"He drew a picture for you—of Jenny Rebecca. Because he thinks you miss her."

Michael didn't know what to say. He held his breath for a moment before releasing it and whispering, "He's right. I do miss her. And him."

_What about __me__, Mikey? Do you miss me?_ Brian wouldn't voice that question.

Crossing one foot over the other, Brian instead told him, "You know you can see him, whenever you want, Mikey."

"I can't. His mother won't let me. Don't you know that I'm a bad influence on children?"

Snorting, Brian asked what that made him. Michael didn't say anything. "Come on, that's bullshit."

"Is it, Brian? Because that's not what the lesbians think. It's not what a judge thinks and told me in a court of law."

Brian hadn't attended the court appearance, so he wasn't sure whether Michael was exaggerating or if that's what the judge really said. How could anyone think that Michael was a bad influence on kids? Kids loved him. Jenny Rebecca, Gus, Hunter, hell even Brian's own prick nephew Jon had liked Mikey.

Knowing that his friend might doubt him, Michael reminded, "I only get to 'visit' my daughter _once _a month and it's for five hours under supervision! If that doesn't say it all, I don't know what does."

"Mikey," Brian began but then he didn't know what to say. What could he possibly say that would ease the pain his best friend was in, over the loss of contact with his daughter? It was one fucked up situation. It shouldn't have come down to this.

"Of course, why am I even saying this to you?" Michael's voice was bitter. "I mean, you got what you wanted. You paid for the lawyer after all. Lindsay gets to see her more than _I_ do, without supervision, I might add, and I'm her father!"

"Mikey."

"Don't "Mikey" me, Brian! I'm not in the mood. Don't you get that?"

"Yeah. Loud and clear." Brian sat up on the couch and glared at the phone. Of course Michael couldn't actually _see_ his glare but maybe he could feel it.

"I get it. You're not in the mood to talk to me, to see me, to go to Babylon or Woody's or hell even the diner anymore with the boys. You're all about being a happy homo homemaker, little wifey to the "good professor," living the yuppie life in your quaint new house on Stepford Avenue with your new BFFs Monty and Eli. What the fuck kind of name is Monty anyway? All you care about is your house, your husband, and your kids. You don't have any time left over for anyo—anything—else," he ranted.

Michael was left stunned at Brian's outburst.

On a roll, Brian went on. "For the past eight months, since you wed the not-so Zen-Ben and Jenny Rebecca was born, you've been focused on them, oh, and Hunter too."

"They're my family, Brian."

"Funny, I thought that's what I was. What Theodore and Emmett were."

"You know that you are, that they are."

"Do we, Michael? Cuz it's not like you've shown it."

Having enough of Brian's little (melo)dramatic diatribe, Michael interrupted. "Cut the crap, Brian. I've been there for people. I've been there for Teddy as he's struggled with putting his life back together after rehab; I've been there for Em as he struggled to put the pieces of his heart back together after it was crushed; I've been there for Ma, dealing with the grief of losing her brother. I've been there for you through the Cancer ordeal. I could go on and on, you know. I'm _always_ there for people."

Michael didn't say it, but he did wonder when people were going to be there for him. He needed support too, but it always seemed like he was giving, giving, giving.

Cracking his knuckles, Brian retorted, "Yeah, except when you've run away."

"Not like you didn't give me the keys to the Stingray or anything," was his friend's reminder.

"Or when you go to Wisconsin to play wifey to Dr. Feel Good."

His eyes widening, Michael was growing more and more irritated with his "best" friend. "So now you're bringing David into this? Even though that was years ago."

"Three."

"Three, two, one, I don't care. That's over and done with. And let me remind you, since it seems your memory is failing, YOU were the one who pushed me to go with him to Portland, OREGON. Portland is in Oregon. You told me there was nothing here for me. 'We're not fifteen anymore. Go with David. Get the hell out of here.' That was the plan. And then I stayed behind—for you—when Justin was bashed and I was willing to stay however long you needed me, but once you knew he was going to recover you practically pushed me out of that hospital chair so I could be on my way. So if you're pissed that I left, you only have yourself to blame." His breath was ragged after getting that off his chest.

"Yes, because Mikey is so innocent, isn't he?"

"Fuck you," Michael said.

"No, fuck you."

They were at an impasse. Neither of them mentioned the whole "Mikey's the only one Brian hasn't fucked in Pittsburgh" shtick as they were not in the mood.

"What do you want from me, Brian? You're the one who kept calling me like some stalker. First on my cell then the landline which frankly I'm surprised you even knew that one, since it's not like you've bothered to call me here," he added bitterly.

Brian answered the implied question with one word. "Cynthia."

Shaking his head, Michael said, "Of course. She better receive a hefty holiday bonus this year."

"I treat her quite well."

"I'm sure you do. You know, Brian, I understand that you're pissed. I can even accept it. But you know, it's a two-way street."

Narrowing his eyes, Brian asked what the hell that was supposed to mean.

"It means that I could have used a little support these past eight months. I was going through my own shit too. I lost Uncle Vic and I had to keep it together. I got married. I became a father. I moved into a house that I own—well, with a mortgage—there's been crap to deal with, with Rage. I've done all that without asking for anything in return but sometimes…"

"What?"

"Sometimes I wish that I didn't have to be the strong, together one. It may not be Cancer, it may not be HIV, or even drug abuse, but I'm going through things too. I'm flying off the seat of my pants here. Marriage is not…it's…never mind. And fatherhood is amazing but it's also scary and the one person I thought I could count on to guide me through it died before he even got to hold her."

Brian closed his eyes, thinking of Vic. He would have loved that little girl, who would be the closest thing to a granddaughter he'd ever have.

"And okay so yeah, I haven't been going to Woody's or Babylon lately. Or even the diner, but can you blame me? After what my mother did, I don't want to see her right now. And priorities do change when you get married. I can't just go out anytime I want with "the boys." Sue me for wanting to be with my husband, that's what people do when they get married."

"When they're Stepford fags."

"Fuck that. I love how it is oh-so easy for you to mock me and the choices I've made in life. Sorry to be _such_ a disappointment to you, Brian."

Brian had told Michael on more than one occasion that he was disappointed in him. And yeah, he was constantly mocking him for his choices of marriage and happy homo home life with the kids and the picket fence in the yard.

"And as far as Jenny Rebecca is concerned, well I told you from the beginning that I'm sorry but I don't want to be like you, forking over money and making cameo appearances in my child's life at birthday parties and the like. It's important for me to _be_ a father. You of all people should know why. I know you love Gus, more than you'll ever admit to, and you are a good dad to him, but you're not even an every-other-weekend dad. But hell, I don't even get that."

What was Brian supposed to say to that? It was all true. He knew how much Michael wanted his kid, before she was even born.

"You had that. And then you fucked it up," Brian told him. "You fucked it up because you wanted more. You _always_ want more and you expect more of things and people."

This conversation was sounding awfully familiar. It was Michael's cue to say _"So what's the alternative? To want and expect nothing like you?" _as he said after Ben's surprise birthday party disaster.

However, Michael wasn't playing that game tonight.

"Well there you go," he huffed. "We're at an impasse."

Sighing, Brian tapped his fingertips on the edge of the couch. Defeated, he said, "I guess so."

Michael felt as tired as Brian sounded. "Well…I don't know what to…I…good night, Brian."

"Night, Mikey," Brian told him and then lingered until finally ending the call and shutting his cell. He contemplated throwing the object across the room but the noise might wake Gus so he just placed it on the coffee table.

Brian was going stir-crazy in Lindsay's tiny, cluttered apartment. He looked at his watch and was disappointed when he saw it was only 9:30 and he had at least another hour and a half 'til he could jet. Standing up, he paced around the living room, desperately needing a joint, an E, something, anything to calm his frazzled nerves. There wasn't even any beer in the fridge, for fuck's sake!

This was all Michael's fault. Never mind that it was _Brian_ who called him and not the other way around.

Muttering a string of profanity, he once again flopped onto the couch, picked up the remote and turned on the TV, not caring what was on but anything was better than this deafening silence.

"Oh fuck me, "Gay as fucking Blazes." Figures," he snorted.

**~~&~~&~~&~~... TBC...~~&~~&~~&~~**


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Notes: **Am I the only one annoyed by the fact that when you want to pick Michael in the drop-down it says Michael B. and not Michael N.?

I would really appreciate some feedback on this one, to let me know if it's worth continuing to post other chapters I've written. Constructive criticism would be welcomed. Thanks!

Chapter 2

After the unexpected, confrontational phone call from his best friend, Michael was in one pissed off mood. He really hated that Brian dredged up all that crap, especially about things that happened years ago.

He sat in the dark living room for a couple of hours, alone with his thoughts and a bottle of beer that he scrounged up from the fridge.

Hunter skidded into the living room on the way to the kitchen for a late-night snack when he noticed Michael sitting there in the dark, looking upset. He walked over to the older man and sat on the edge of the couch. "Whatcha doing in the dark?" he wondered.

"Just sitting here, thinking."

That much was obvious. When Hunter asked why, Michael retorted that he felt like it.

"Where's Ben?" was the next obvious question.

"Out," Michael said without adding more information.

Raising a brow, Hunter wondered what that was about. Ben had been going out lately at night. Funny because he used to be the one who always wanted to stay in, even if Michael wanted to go out with his friends. How—and more importantly when—had that changed?

"So you weren't fighting with him then?"

Squinting in the dark at his soon-to-be-adopted son, Michael told him he wasn't fighting with anyone.

"I heard your voice all loud and angry."

Frowning, Michael said he was sorry and once again Hunter asked what was going on. "I was on the phone with Brian," he explained.

"You were fighting with Rage? But he's like your BFF."

Chuckling, Michael admitted, "Yeah, you could say we were arguing. And even though he _is_ my best friend, there are times when we get mad at each other and fight, even times when we don't get along or communicate."

This was unsettling to Hunter who felt that Brian Kinney and Michael Novotny went together, sort of like peanut butter and jelly, when one was without the other, it just wasn't the same.

"That sucks, man."

Shrugging, Michael told him, "It is what it is."

_Hmm_. Hunter observed Michael's demeanor. "What did you two fight about?"

Shaking his head, Michael told him it was complicated. Hunter hated when adults used that as an excuse to not explain something. It was patronizing.

"I'm not a little kid."

Taking in his son's look, Michael said, "I know you're not. I just…I'd rather not get into it right now. He just threw me an unexpected curve ball. That's all."

Hunter nodded and he remained seated on the couch and they sat there like that, in companionable silence for a while, until he decided to try to wriggle the story out of Michael.

"It's because of Jenny Rebecca, isn't it?"

Michael's head whipped around when Hunter mentioned his sister's name. "Why do you say that?"

"Because, didn't Kinney pay for the lawyer that the one lesbian—Lindsay—hired? Didn't he give her the name and tell her stuff that only he knew about? Stuff that damaged your character?"

Swallowing, Michael asked how he knew. "I heard you and Ben talking after the custody hearing. That's it, isn't it?"

Finally acknowledging the truth, Michael nodded. "That's part of it. There are other things; other reasons…You know what's funny?"

Giving Michael an odd look, Hunter asked what could possibly be amusing about this situation.

"He found the lawyer and paid for him and yet he didn't have the balls to show up in court that day. Ma was there, Emmett and Teddy, you were there. But Brian? Conspicuously absent."

"Maybe because he knew that it was wrong. To support Lindsay, I mean. You're his best friend."

"I don't know why he chose to support her over me. Even if he disagreed with my position and felt for hers, he _actively_ supported her. I really don't know how he could do that." He gave a sad shake of his head and Hunter ached to have the words (or the actions) to comfort the man that he'd really grown to admire and even love.

"Me either."

"I mean the two people I should be able to count on—aside from Ben that is—are Ma and Brian. And Ma sided with Mel because of the whole "single mother solidarity" thing or something, I don't know except that if it was her precious Sunshine in a custody battle she'd be supporting him," he added bitterly.

Snorting, Hunter had to agree with that assessment. He didn't really get why the loud-mouthed red-head could be nicer to Justin than to her son. And not for nothing but he didn't see anything special about the blond twink. What Debbie or Brian saw in him was beyond Hunter. He saw Justin's type as a dime-a-dozen. There were hotter guys who cruise the streets. And certainly much nicer ones—like Michael.

"But Brian? I mean, yeah, he and Lindsay are friends—though honestly sometimes I wonder why, I wonder what _he_ gets out of that friendship—but I thought _we_ were best friends. Doesn't twenty-one years of friendship trump anything, anymore? Doesn't the support I've given him count for anything? You weren't here when Gus was born or a baby, Hunter, but the lesbians—at least Mel but to a degree, Lindsay—didn't want Brian around and they were pushing for Brian to give up his paternal rights because it would make things easier on them. Not to mention all the times they milked him for money. And who was there to support him but me? There to remind him that he should be there for Gus, screw what they thought. Brian, more than anyone, knows how much me not having a dad has messed with me and how much I wanted to be a father. To actually be there for my child. I guess it's too hetero or lesbianic for him."

Shrugging, he leaned against the couch, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"You have rights. Or at least you should, dude. You're Jenny Rebecca's father. And unlike my father and especially my mother, you give a shit about her. You want to be there for her. I don't get why anyone would think that's wrong," Hunter stated plainly.

Giving him a grateful smile, Michael placed a hand atop Hunter's and gave it a little pat. "Thank you," he said softly, appreciating the teen's point-of-view.

Brushing hair off his forehead, the teen gave a small smile to the other man. "No prob. Besides, I uh, I kinda like having a little sister around; for a baby she's pretty cool."

This remark brought a genuine smile to Michael's face. "Yeah, she is. You're already good with her. And she's lucky to have you as her big brother."

Feeling embarrassed by the praise, Hunter shrugged and said, "I don't know about that but she's just easy."

"Easy? Are you kidding, she's an infant and needs a lot of attention and care and a whole lot of fucking patience and you seem to have it with her. It means a lot to me."

"Okay dude, enough with the compliments."

Michael couldn't help but chuckle at the teen's modesty. "All right, all right. Just wait 'til she hits those 'terrible twos.' Of course, if I only get to see her once a month for five supervised hours, I guess you won't have to deal with it."

"Hey, you never know. Didn't the judge say she'd review the case again in a few months?"

"Yeah. Months. Six, actually. That's _six _months of time that I don't get to spend with your sister, that she doesn't know that I love her…" his choked voice trailed off.

His tone turned serious, Hunter told him, "Michael. Jenny Rebecca knows that you're her dad and she knows that you love her. You told her that in the womb for fuck's sake! She's a smart kid, she'll know."

Shaking his head in amazement, Michael asked, "How did I get so lucky? I have two of the best kids."

Hunter laughed and said that he didn't know. Michael decided to get up and out of the dark, so he headed into the kitchen with Hunter on his heels and he made them a late-night snack. Despite Ben being M.I.A., despite the fight with Brian, and despite the general sadness he felt over the situation with his daughter, Michael truly felt better having talked to the one-time runaway who managed to secure a special spot in his heart.

_At least I still have Hunter_, he mused. _No one's going to take him away from me_.

* * *

Cynthia and Ted were in a meeting with Brian the next day at Kinnetik and they observed their boss's demeanor which said one thing: _stand back, I'm pissed off_. Okay, so that was _two_ things. Both employees were used to Brian's moods as they had known him for a long time and Cynthia certainly had worked with him long enough, so in general they tried to ignore it, but Cynthia was concerned. He was acting even pissier than he normally would. So she decided to confront him about it when the meeting had adjourned and their client departed the conference room.

"Theodore, you got all that?"

Giving Brian an odd look, Ted was sarcastic when he replied. "Yes. I took notes and everything."

Even though he hadn't worked for Brian that long (about a year now), he knew it was okay to be sarcastic with "the boss." At least he hoped.

Rolling his eyes, Brian pushed his chair from out of the desk and said, "Gold star for the day, Schmidt."

"Brian, what's going on with you?" Cynthia blurted out to the surprise of her boss and of her co-workers who thought she had some balls to confront him.

"What are you on about, Cyn?"

"You were completely distracted in that meeting," she pointed out.

Not caring, he asked what did that matter, he did his job. "Not like the customer had any complaints."

"Of course not. You _are_ Brian Kinney."

"Exactly. So who cares?"

Looking him in the eye, Cynthia stated plainly, "You do. So what is it? Anything Ted or I can do for you?"

Snorting, Brian chuckled before responding. "The last person I need help from is the ex-crystal junkie."

This resulted in a glare from Ted.

"You can always come to me though."

"I know, Cyn. Thanks. But I'm fine. Really," he insisted.

A fear that had been niggling in the back of her head presented itself and she couldn't stop herself from inquiring about his health. "You're not…sick, are you?" She was wary of using the "C" word with him.

Sighing, Brian leaned back in his chair and faced her, noting her concern. He did appreciate it. But he didn't need to be mothered, not at work. "I'm fine. Doc gave me a clean bill of health the last time I saw him." His voice was sincere so both Ted and Cynthia believed him.

_Thank God_, Cynthia whispered to herself. So if it wasn't his health and it wasn't his work…well, she did remember that phone call she received from her boss last night, asking for the home phone number of a certain someone.

"Michael's not called lately. In fact, I can't remember the last time he called."

"Mikey's a busy man these days, what with having a house, a husband, and two kids…"

"One," Ted interrupted and Brian narrowed his eyes at him. "Well, it's not like he gets to see his daughter," he reminded.

_Oh fuck me._ Brian was not going to be guilted about this again and this time from Theodore of all people!

Shaking her head, Cynthia commented, "It's such a shame. He loves that little girl so much. Remember when he brought her over to the office to introduce her? She was what, a month old, maybe? She was so precious and he was so sweet with her."

Listening to his assistant practically swoon over his best friend and his best friend's baby annoyed Brian. Since when was Cynthia all gushy over babies? She hadn't been particularly over Gus…then again, he never brought Gus around Ryder or Vanguard.

"Michael's a good dad. Or tries to be," Ted said.

"I hope, for Jenny Rebecca's sake, that the three of them are able to resolve things and soon," added Cynthia.

Nodding, Ted looked at Brian who looked like he wanted to be anywhere but here.

Getting more than annoyed with his co-worker, Brian glared at Ted before saying, "I don't exactly see you going to Smelly Melly and asking her to ease up on Michael. After all, you and Mel are bosom buddies. She'll listen to you."

"Since when does Melanie Marcus listen to anyone? You can go to Lindsay, and get her to back off."

"She's a mother."

"So is Mel. And Michael's the father. That's all well-established. What's ridiculous is the custody that was decided in court."

"Take it up with the judge."

Rolling his eyes, Ted decided to try another tactic. "You know, for someone who claims to be Michael's best friend, it's a little odd how conspicuously absent you were from that hearing."

Tapping his foot on the sleek floor, Brian said, "I _am_ his best friend. Besides, it's not as if Mikey was lacking in support—he had you and Em, Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum, and he had Benjamin and the kid."

"Not the same thing," Ted pointed out. "Could it be because you were feeling guilty?"

Cynthia's blue eyes widened at Ted's audacity. Brian gave him an "Oh no you didn't" look, which would otherwise be amusing but right now that look could kill.

"What the fuck do I have to be guilty of?"

"Financing Lindsay's lawyer," stated Ted, bracing himself for the fallout of his words.

"What I do with my money for the mother of my son (and oh god he inwardly cringed saying that), is none of your concern, Schmidt."

"Well, that says everything."

"You might want to start looking for a new job. Most bosses don't like attitude like that."

Gulping, Ted realized he'd gone too far. Well, no one could say he didn't do his part in trying to help Michael.

"Gentleman, go to your respective corners, leave work because it's long past closing time, and cool off. And let the games begin again…tomorrow."

Cynthia, ever the voice of reason. Sometimes Brian hated that.

"I want the Dixon files on my desk first thing in the morning," Brian told Cynthia, without giving a look (or word) to Ted who'd already had the decency to leave the room.

"Will do, Boss." Shuffling papers together, Cynthia hesitated before leaving.

"You should call him, you know."

Sighing, Brian stood up and pushed his chair back in before grabbing his briefcase. "Good night, Cynthia."

Realizing there was nothing more for her to say, Cynthia smoothed over her skirt and gave a nod before leaving.

Brian left the conference room for his office where he packed up his stuff for the night, including his laptop. He looked at his answering machine—no blinking lights which meant no messages—and then he flipped open his cell to find no messages there either. Not that he was expecting Michael to call.

Of course Brian could have easily called Michael, but after the way their conversation went and then ended last night, he really wasn't up for anything that was certain to give him a headache. Not to mention that he figured that he was about the last person his best friend was interested in talking to. Knowing there was nothing that he could do about the situation at the moment, Brian stood up, straightened his tie, picked up his laptop and secured it under his arm before heading out. What he needed was some time to cool off, as Cynthia had suggested. The best way to do that was via recreational drugs, booze (preferably Jim Beam) and some hot guys.

* * *

"You didn't answer your cell," came a voice from behind.

Cringing at the accusatory tone of his husband, Michael continued the task at hand, preparing the vegetables to go into the salad he was making for dinner along with steak and potatoes.

Ben surveyed the food that Michael was cooking. "Steak? You know that I don't eat…"

Cutting him off, Michael said, "It's for Hunter and me. We didn't think you'd be home for dinner."

Rolling his eyes, Ben pointed out, "Well, if you had bothered to look at your cell, you would have noticed that you had messages waiting for you, from me. Voicemail and text."

"Well, if you had been home this morning, I could have asked you then, but you weren't," retorted Michael.

"I had an early class."

That was his justification? Stopping mid-chop, Michael let out a frustrated growl. "I know your schedule, Professor, and you don't have any classes on Thursdays until ten-thirty."

"I hate it when you call me Professor. Sounds condescending, like something Brian would say."

"Condescending?" snorted Michael who turned his attention back to the cucumber he was chopping. "That's rich, coming from you."

Raising a brow, Ben pushed up his glasses on his nose. "What is that supposed to mean? You know what, on second thought, I don't think I want to know. I didn't intend to come home and argue with you."

"Really? Could've fooled me. And if you're being sincere, then don't use Brian to prove a point."

Biting his tongue to keep an acidic remark held back, Ben said, "You're right. Need any help?"

Shaking his head, Michael told him that he had everything covered. Ben felt awkward just standing there, so he pulled out some plates and went about setting the table.

"Did you even come home last night?" Michael finally asked after a long break of silence.

"What?" Ben choked, looking up and over at his husband.

"It's a simple 'yes' or 'no' question. Did you come home last night?"

Hesitating, Ben answered, "Of course I did." Michael though, had picked up on the hesitation.

"You didn't come to bed," Michael pointed out.

Nodding, Ben said, "It was late. And I didn't want to wake you up. So I slept on the couch."

"I wouldn't have minded. It would have been nice to know that my husband came home and that he wanted to sleep in the same bed with me."

"Michael, I…" Ben's voice faltered.

Holding up a hand to stop him, Michael went on. "I wouldn't have minded being woken up. You know I can usually fall back to sleep pretty easily. Especially if I'm being held."

Ben couldn't deny that. He really did owe Michael an explanation. Problem was, he didn't want to give it—or at least he wasn't ready to.

"Hunter asked about you."

"What did you tell him?"

"That you were out. I don't think he bought it, but I had nothing else to tell him. Especially when I didn't know the details myself."

"Michael…"

Turning around to face his husband, Michael met Ben's troubled eyes. "We need to talk, Ben. Not now, maybe not even tonight, but we need to talk."

"We do," Ben quietly agreed.

Michael didn't say anything further, he just resumed the finishing touches on the salad and then got the steak and potatoes ready and beverages set out before calling Hunter to join them for dinner.

Ben stood off to the side as Hunter strolled into the room, his ear buds hanging on his neck, attached to his iPod. "Yo," he said casually to Michael, not noticing the other figure in the room.

Michael laughed at the teenager's nonchalance. "Yo."

Raising a brow, Hunter laughed at his elder. It always amused him when the parentals tried to act hip. Not that Michael was uncool (he certainly was more than Ben), but it was funny.

"Dinner smells good, Man," he said as he sat down at the table.

A cough filtered through the air and when he looked up, he finally noticed Ben in the room. He gave a nod to him, but didn't say anything. Instead, he turned his focus on Michael, to gauge his mood.

Michael carried the salad bowl over to the table and placed it down on a mat before going to get the main course. Ben just stood there, not saying anything and not offering to help. What a lazy bastard, the other two thought. Hunter decided that _he_ could help, so he grabbed the rest of the food and placed it on the table while Michael pulled out a bottle of Ranch dressing (his and Hunter's personal favorite) and set that down before taking their seats.

Michael filled his plate with some salad and Hunter, not standing the tension any longer turned to Ben and said, "Dude, I know you don't eat meat and all—well, except for Michael's man meat," which eased some of the tension and they all chuckled, albeit awkwardly. "But," he continued, "you can eat salad and potatoes so sit down."

Taken aback by Hunter's insistence, Ben did as requested and sat in his chair which was across from Michael. He started to fill a bowl with salad when he stood up, the other two looking directly at him.

"Just getting dressing," he informed them before pulling out a bottle of raspberry vinaigrette from the refrigerator.

Hunter and Michael went back to piling their plates with steak and potatoes as Ben sat down and got his salad.

"Thanks for making dinner, babe," Ben told Michael sweetly, a little too sweetly for Michael's comfort so he responded with merely a nod.

"Thanks, dude," Hunter said between mouthfuls and Michael laughed at the teen who was chomping the food like there was no tomorrow.

"You don't have to eat that fast, Hunter. You can actually chew and then swallow."

"Funny, I prefer spitting to swallowing."

Both Ben and Michael's eyes widened, particularly at how casually Hunter threw out that statement. Hunter laughed at their expression. At least now maybe they could eat without suffocating from the tension.

But then the three of them were startled by the sound of Ben's cell going off, signaling a text message. He turned to the side to view the message before looking back at the men who were just waiting for his move.

Swallowing, Ben stood up and pushed his chair in, not missing the questioning looks on both of their faces.

"I uh, I have to go," he said with no further explanation.

"Dude, we're eating dinner," pointed out Hunter as he looked at the sad expression on Michael's face.

"I, I know. I'm sorry." Ben hadn't missed the pained expression on his husband's face. Sighing, he walked over to him and leaned down, kissing him on the forehead. "Thanks for dinner, baby. I'll see you later."

Michael didn't bother to ask _how_ late he'd be. He didn't even look at Ben, he couldn't.

Ben quietly exited the room, leaving Hunter and Michael in a room that was once again filled with tension.

He picked up his glass of Pepsi and hand shaking, began to down it, knowing that he was going to need something stronger to make it through another night.

**~~&~~&~~&~~... TBC...~~&~~&~~**


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Notes:**** I actually debated not posting further chapters as I hadn't received any reviews (and believe me, I don't want to beg for them), but since ****_Morelen_**** asked for an update, I decided to post, so this one is for ****_Morelen_****, hope you enjoy! **

**Chapter Three**

"Daddy, I get to see Mommy Mel and Jenny!" Gus happily gushed to his father. Brian nodded his head at his son whose hand he held while he pressed the doorbell at Mel and Linds—no, it was just Mel's now—place.

He wasn't exactly thrilled to be standing there, but Lindsay asked if he could drop off Gus for her and being the glutton that he was, he agreed. The entire ride there, Gus was eagerly chatting away about how he couldn't wait to see Mel and his sister. The little boy had missed them a lot even though Brian knew that Gus actually saw him more than it seemed but he guessed to a little kid, being separated even a few days was a big deal. He also talked about his "Unca" Mikey and did Daddy give him the drawing he made of Jenny and her bunny? Brian hadn't and he felt guilty about that. He didn't want to lie to Gus though, so he just didn't answer.

The door flew open and Brian peered at Mel who seemed a bit frazzled. "Don't you know you're not supposed to open the door to strangers?"

She gave him a glare and he looked pointedly at his son. She then pasted a smile on her face and Gus smiled back at her, yelling "Mommy Melly!" and jumped into her waiting arms.

"Hi Gus!" she said cheerily, giving him a big hug and kiss. She missed her son a lot. Even though it had been a few months, she still wasn't used to not seeing him and holding him every day as she had when he and his mother still lived with them.

A throat cleared and then she added, "Brian." He followed her into the house and set down Gus's backpack that contained the few items he might need or want for the visit (which wasn't much considering his room was still intact from when he lived there) on the floor of the living room.

"Where's Jenny?" Gus asked once he was put down by his mother.

"She's in her room, I was about to get her dressed."

"Go ahead. I'll stay down here with Sonny Boy," Brian told her generously and she cocked an eyebrow at him.

"If you're sure…"

"He wants to see her so get her."

Mel was about to go upstairs into the nursery room and put on Jenny Rebecca's sundress when the phone rang. She let it go to voicemail and then said, "Shit," when she heard her client. Then Jenny started crying and she repeated the curse.

Brian gave a laugh. It was always amusing to see Mel in a frazzled state. He didn't know why it was, but it's the little things.

Mel was about to glare at him when she thought better of it. Sighing, she turned to him and said, "She probably needs to be changed. Brian, would you mind?"

"What?" he asked, confusion evidence on his face. Since when did Melanie allow him to take care of her daughter?

Giving him a pleading look, she explained, "Look that was a very important client call that I need to return. After working on this case for years, we're finally getting the break we need to win and if we do, well, it'll be a very good thing—for the firm and for me and for the kids." She didn't need to spell it out, but obviously she'd be financially rewarded for her services.

Jenny's wails grew louder and Gus looked up at him with those big hazel eyes and Brian found himself not being able to say no, so he told her that he would pick her up and check if she needed changing and if she did, he'd do it but Mel would owe him.

"Thank you!" Melanie told him, running to pick up the phone in the other room.

"Okay, Sonny Boy, we're going to get your sister, come on," he told him, holding out his hand, which Gus readily accepted and they walked upstairs and into the nursery.

Brian hadn't been in that room since Gus moved out into a different room in preparation for the baby. Instead of the walls being painted a light green, it was painted a nice, soft pink. Too girly for Brian's tastes but perfect for a baby girl. Of course, she could surprise them and be a tomboy like her mother, unless of course she took after her Auntie Em or Lindsay or…

Brian's thoughts were interrupted by Gus tugging on his corduroys, pointing at his sister who was wriggling around in the cherry oak crib, crying her little lungs out. He quietly stepped over towards her (not knowing why he was being quiet because with that scream of hers, she was wide awake) and looked her over. Her round face was red and blotchy from crying and her eyes were saturated with tears. Those eyes, god they nearly did Brian in—they were her father's eyes, chocolate and shaped by long dark lashes.

"Jenny, Jenny Penny," Gus sang.

Jenny Penny? Must be a new nickname, Brian thought to himself. "Daddy will change you," Gus told her, looking down at her in his old crib.

Brian hoped that she was just wet because changing wet diapers was less unpleasant than the alternative. He reached a hand out and cupped her backside, feeling that it was indeed wet. "What do you know, Sonny Boy, she does need to be changed." Taking a deep breath, he reached in and gently eased Jenny Rebecca out of her crib and into his arms and walked her over to the changing table.

Once he had her on the table, he noticed that she was looking up at him with those bright, teary eyes. "You're going to kill me, kid," he whispered to her as he unbuttoned her sleeper and pulled off her wet diaper. Luckily, she didn't give him any trouble with that. Gus had a tendency to flail about when he was changed, probably because he was a boy—and Brian's son—and of course he sometimes sprayed too. Jenny Rebecca sat there, continuing to cry but softly now as she took in this relative stranger who was taking care of her.

"Sorry that I'm the wrong guy, I'm sure you want Michael—that's your father, by the way," he told her softly as he used the wipes that Gus handed him. "Thanks Sonny Boy," he told his son with a smile as a diaper was handed to him. Obviously Gus had been there for a few diaper changes.

Brian applied the baby talcum powder and then put the new diaper on and fastened it tightly before wondering what he should put her in because her sleeper was soaked. "Kiddo, I'm not sure what Smel—I mean your Mom—was going to dress you in. Wish you could give me a clue," he admitted as he wiped some tears off her cheek.

Holding her carefully in his arms, he looked in her closet which was full of little dresses, they were probably mostly from Linds and Grandma Debbie. Maybe he could find some pants and a shirt in her dresser. He looked helplessly at his son who pointed towards something that was on the other end of her dresser—a purple sundress. Hmm, maybe that's what Mel was going to dress her in. Once he determined that it was clean, he pulled it over Jenny's head and then asked his son where her shoes were kept. They were lined up in a cubby next to her dresser, so he picked out a pair, not knowing what matched. It was so much easier with Gus. Crap, he almost forgot socks. Opening the top drawer, he spotted a pair of white cotton socks and he figured they were good enough, so he put them on her and then slipped a pair of black Mary Jane's on her feet.

"There you go, you're clean and you're dressed. Not bad," Brian told her and all of a sudden she gave him a smile, her dimples widening.

"That smile, that's another thing that you have of your dad's. His smile, his eyes, his cute button nose." Although it was hard to look at her because she looked so much like Michael, he was glad that she took after him and not Mel. Funny how the best friends both had a kid who was their spitting image as Mikey often said that Gus was Brian's carbon copy.

_Now what?_ Brian wondered and looked at his son who was looking up at him and shrugged.

"You and me both. I wonder if Mel is still on the phone. Come on, let's go down." Placing Jenny Rebecca carefully over his shoulder, he held her tightly as he followed his son down the steps. When they reached the living room, he noticed that Mel wasn't there but he heard her voice come from the other room and she was speaking legalese so obviously she was still on with her client.

"Your Pop needs to sit down, Sonny Boy. C' mere," he told his son, patting a spot next to him on the couch. The comfortable couch.

Jenny's lashes fluttered as she looked over Brian. "That's my Daddy, Jenny," Gus pointed out to her and she smiled at her brother.

"Unca Mikey is your daddy," he told her, holding her hand which she gave a little squeeze and a clap of her hands at mention of her daddy.

Holding Michael's daughter so closely brought a mixture of emotions to Brian. He hadn't spent all that much time around her. Oh sure at first Michael brought her around and he visited like the dutiful best friend he was but still, there was no significant time spent and usually someone else was there…Gus, Linds and Mel, Debbie, Benjamin, Hunter, you name it.

"Your daddy is my best friend…or at least he used to be," he confided in her ear. "I miss him. I know you miss him too. This shouldn't have happened," he told her with a sigh.

She was so soft and warm and snuggly and she smelled of good baby smells and he had an inkling of why Michael wanted to be around her so much. Michael…he wondered when either one of them would be willing to relent and get past their current, tenuous situation. He hated not having his best friend around. But neither one of them seemed capable of making the first move. Not that he blamed Mikey and the truth was, Brian should be the one to make the move, but for some reason, he hadn't.

His musings stopped when he felt chubby fingers playfully tapping his face. "Oh, you want to hit me, huh? You're lucky you're a girl and I don't hit girls. Well, I wouldn't hit a baby, period," he confessed with a grin.

"Daddy, make silly faces at her. She loves it when Unca Mikey does."

Groaning, Brian wanted to say that silly faces were much more suited to Michael than to him. Brian had never been all "coochie-coochie-coo" with babies, even Gus.

Just as he was about to make _one_ silly face at her to appease his son, he heard the doorbell. "Whaddya know, saved by the bell!" he exclaimed, much to his son's dismay.

"Hey Mel, you expecting someone?" he called out but didn't get a response from her office. Damn, must still be on the phone about the case—what was he thinking, of course she was, otherwise he wouldn't have Jenny Rebecca in his arms right now.

"I'm coming, I'm coming," he said aloud as he stood up, Jenny secure in his arms and Gus beside him.

Not recalling that he'd chastised Melanie earlier for not asking who it was, Brian opened the door and was taken aback to find Michael standing on the stoop, his hands in his pockets.

For his part, Michael couldn't believe that it was Brian who answered the door with Jenny in his arms. Obviously he hadn't been paying attention to the cars in the driveway. For what felt like a long time, he stood there tongue-tied, staring at the scene, tears welling in his eyes.

Jenny Rebecca looked content, she was smiling that gorgeous smile that lit up the world—well, at least her father's world—and she was gurgling happily.

Michael looked up at Brian who was staring nervously back at him, waiting for Michael to say something, anything. Normally Michael would be touched to see his best friend holding his child with such an ease and naturalness but right now it felt like he was being stabbed with shards of glass. Must be nice that _he_ can hold Jenny Rebecca with no problems and no supervision. That was a luxury which Michael was no longer afforded.

His chest constricted and his throat tightened up, but he was going to say something when he heard little feet running towards him, attached to the other child who'd captured his heart who was yelling, "Unca Mikey, Unca Mikey! You're here to visit me and Jenny!"

Before he knew it, Gus had attached himself to his legs, holding tight. Bending over, Michael opened his arms and Gus promptly ran into them and squeezed him hard. Michael picked him up and held him against his chest, breathing in his scent. "Hi Gus," he said softly, his voice cracking.

"I missed you, Unca Mikey," Gus told him.

"I missed you too, buddy. More than you'll ever know," Michael told him, before nuzzling him.

Swallowing, Brian watched the "reunion" playing out. He hadn't seen Gus this happy in a while. Even the prospect of seeing Mel and Jenny today didn't make him as thrilled as he was now that his precious "Unca" Mikey was there.

"Oof, you're getting heavy kiddo. Did you swallow a dinosaur for lunch?" Gus merely giggled and he allowed his uncle to tickle him.

"Mikey," Brian began, trying to find his voice.

"Where's Mel?" Michael asked, not bothering to greet his friend.

"Mikey," Brian began again.

"I can't believe she let you…"

A pained expression revealed itself on Brian's face for the briefest of moments. "You don't want me to hold her?"

"I…" Michael hadn't meant to say that out loud. "It's just she…I…you…" Michael faltered, how was he going to explain that right now he was jealous of Brian being able to hold her so freely?

Brian glanced down at Jenny Rebecca who was looking in her father's direction and it occurred to him that the reason Michael was so upset right now was because he wanted to be the one holding her and taking care of her but there were rules for him, unlike for Brian. Fuck.

"She got a phone call from an important client. Big case that she's trying to resolve or something. Jenny Rebecca was crying and well, she asked me if I could check on her."

"Daddy changed her diaper and changed her clothes," Gus proudly shared with Michael.

"He did, did he? Well, thank you Brian."

Nodding, Brian said it was no problem. Michael still looked distressed so Brian said, "Gus, why don't you let Michael go."

At Gus's protest, Brian bent over and whispered something in his ear and then Gus jumped down and stood in-between both men. Michael gave him a questioning look but then he heard Brian's soft tone saying, "Here's Daddy, Jenny," and the next thing he knew, Brian gently transferred his daughter from his arms into Michael's. Michael gave him a grateful look before he turned his attention to his daughter.

"Hi Honey Bunny," he greeted softly, stroking her cheek and kissing her forehead.

"Daddy missed you so much," he whispered as he blanketed her with kisses over her cheeks. He cuddled her tightly to his chest and closed his eyes, savoring the moment. Because his eyes were shut, he didn't notice father and son looking at him with such intensity, glad that father and daughter were together again.

"Okay Brian, I'm done," Melanie called out as she walked back into the living room.

When she saw what was going on, she placed her hands on her hips. "Michael."

Opening his eyes, the shorter man immediately stiffened, which Brian caught. "Hello, Melanie." He held onto his daughter even tighter than he had been.

"How long have you been here?"

"Five minutes or so."

Melanie glanced at her watch. "Shit," she said, having realized how long she was on the phone.

"Brian, why didn't you tell me I had a guest?"

Brian wanted to shake her and say he's not a guest, he's _Mikey_, but he couldn't do that. It wouldn't help Michael's case and there were two kids in the room.

"The doorbell rang and I called out to you asking if you were expecting anyone; you didn't respond so I assumed you were still on your call and I opened the door and it was Mike—Michael.

"Oh…all right."

The tension grew thick in the room and Brian unconsciously reached for Gus's hand.

"I was on time," Michael stated.

"Yeah, I see that. Where's Mrs. Perkins?" she asked, referring to the court supervisor.

"I'm not sure," Michael told her honestly.

Narrowing her eyes, Melanie wanted to grab her daughter but knew that Brian would stop her if she tried.

"Well you can't leave until she's here," she reminded him.

He gave her a knowing look. "I realize that," he said as he supplied Jenny with kisses on her downy forehead.

Brian observed them with keen interest. He hadn't seen them together in some time and it was almost disturbing how bad things had become between them. All over the little girl who was content in her father's arms. It was sad, really. At one point, Mel and Michael were friends, Lindsay too. Enough that the girls had asked Michael to father their child. And now the three could barely be in the same room together without emotions spilling over.

"Mommy I missed you," Gus told her, drawing her attention away from her daughter and onto her son.

"I missed you too, Gus," she told him and pulled him into a hug.

Brian gave a relieved sigh, thankful for his son's smarts. He looked over at Michael who was holding onto Jenny Rebecca for dear life.

Nobody spoke for a few minutes—Michael cuddled his daughter and Mel was quietly talking to Gus while Brian was observing both.

Finally, Melanie spoke up. "Where are you taking her?" she directed towards Michael.

Michael didn't have to tell Melanie because the court supervisor would be there and he was sure she'd get an in-depth report of his whereabouts and what he did with his daughter. His time with her was rare these days and a precious commodity so a part of him didn't want to give it up yet he also didn't want to start anything, especially with the kids (and Brian) in the room.

"To the park for a while and then I'll walk her in the stroller and maybe stop by the creek to feed the ducks, she likes watching them."

"She'll need a sweater."

Michael nodded, he wasn't stupid. He had everything his daughter would need, in his car. Yes, he had finally purchased a car, shortly after Jenny Rebecca was born so he didn't have to rely on others whenever he wanted to visit her.

"Are Ben and Hunter meeting you?"

Brian watched as Michael paused, thinking of what to say. "Ben is holding a study session for his students, big exam coming up."

Melanie gave him a disbelieving look. "Some stepfather," she muttered under her breath.

"Can we not do this? Please," Michael requested.

"Hunter is going to meet us at the park once I get there and call him."

She nodded and said nothing further but looked pointedly at the clock. Minutes were ticking by and the supervisor still hadn't arrived. This was not good.

"Brian, what are you still doing here?" she suddenly asked him. He was just standing there, not contributing to anything and well, it was her time with Gus now.

"What, I can't stay here with my son for a little longer?" his question was full of double-meaning, his eyes darting back and forth between Michael and Melanie.

Melanie was about to retort when Gus spoke up, "Unca Mikey, Unca Mikey, can I go to the park with you and Jenny Penny? And 'unter?" He gave his uncle a hopeful, toothy grin.

Michael wanted to say yes but he knew that it was impossible. "Sorry kiddo, it's your time with your Mommy Mel."

Brian noticed how Gus's little face deflated. At this moment, Brian seriously hated Melanie and Lindsay and even himself.

"But I'll visit you soon," Michael covered, hoping it wouldn't be a lie.

"Okay. Oooh, where's Alex?" he asked, looking around for Jenny's favorite toy.

"He's in the car," Michael told him.

Brian couldn't help himself. "Alex, huh?" he asked Michael, raising a brow. Michael rolled his eyes at him in what one could almost interpret as a playful gesture. Brian took that moment to sit on the loveseat across from the couch.

Michael was getting more and more nervous as time wore on. This was unlike Mrs. Perkins to be late or not show up. It was seriously messing with everyone's schedule.

"Okay, this is fu—freaking ridiculous," Melanie declared once a full hour had passed.

"I don't know what happened," Michael told her truthfully. "She was supposed to be here when I got here."

Michael's cell went off and he grabbed it, hoping that it would be the supervisor telling him that she was on her way. He was going to lose more than an hour's time. And yeah, he was with her, holding her, but it wasn't the same with Mel's watchful eye. At least the court supervisor stood out of his way for the most part.

"This is Michael Novotny. Mrs. Perkins? Where are you? Wait, what happened? Oh no, I'm sorry to hear that. Yes, I understand. I can? I'll try but I'm not sure. Hmm. All right. Yes of course. I hope she's all right. I will. Thank you." Melanie and Brian glanced over at each other as they heard Michael's end of the conversation.

Closing his cell with a sigh, he turned to face Melanie and explained, "That was Mrs. Perkins. Her mother's in the hospital. Took a bad fall and broke her hip. Her brother lives out-of-state so she's the only one who can be there right now and she's old and might need surgery, so…"

"So she's not coming," Melanie deduced with a frown.

"She can't help it," Michael offered in defense.

"I know that. Fuck. Now what?"

"She said that we can call and see if another supervisor can come over but they're usually pretty booked on Saturdays and one might not be available for a few hours."

"A few hours?" tsked Melanie. "By then it will be time for her to be back home."

"She did say that if you would allow me some time unsupervised, it wouldn't have to be the five hours…"

Melanie adamantly shook her head as Brian glared at her. _Insufferable woman_, he thought!

"Less than four hours, you mean. It's already been over an hour."

"Yeah, we were waiting for her. I'm still entitled to my five—"

"Not without supervision, you're not."

Michael implored, "Melanie, _please_ let me have some time with her. I'll have her back on time or even earlier."

"You have to follow the rules."

"Mrs. Perkins said—"

Mel cut off his protests with a look. "She said if _I_ allowed it. Well, I'm not. You'd better call and see if you can get another supervisor."

Brian watched as his best friend's eyes glazed over in pain, his hand trembling as he pulled out his cell phone and looked through his contacts for his lawyer. Once he reached his lawyer, he explained the situation and his lawyer said he'd get back to him when he could find a supervisor.

Time was flying by and by the time the lawyer got back with the news, Michael looked like he was about to cry. He kissed Jenny's sweet face and then said, "The supervisor can't get here for another three hours. But he can stay for five."

"That's not how it works. It's for a specific time period. You've already used up—"

"Are you kidding me?" Brian finally spoke up, not being able to stand it. "You're not seriously going to say that Michael has used up his time, sitting here."

"Don't stick your nose where it doesn't belong. Besides, by that time, it will be well past her bedtime. By the time he would get here, your original five hours will nearly be up."

"I'll watch them," Brian offered off-the-cuff.

Michael looked at Brian in surprise. Just what was his friend offering?

"Michael needs a 'supervisor' to watch them. I'll be it. I'll take Gus to the park and I'll watch them. Or I'll just watch them on my own. We won't be a minute late," he promised, knowing it was futile to even ask at this point but knowing he had to try.

"Brian Kinney as a supervisor?" Melanie snorted as she ruffled Gus's hair. "I don't think so. It's a court-appointed supervisor or it's nothing. I'm sorry, Michael, but you'll have to wait until the next visit."

His voice barely audible, Michael choked out, "A month."

Brian and Melanie whipped their heads around. "I won't get to see her for another month. How can you do this to me? To her?" he asked as he cupped the back of his daughter's forehead.

Halting for a moment, Melanie took a deep breath before saying, "I'm just playing by the rules of the court. Rules which would never have been in place in the first place if you hadn't pursued custody. You have to live with the consequences of your choices. Now give me my daughter."

Brian couldn't remember the last time he'd seen his friend so stricken and punched in the gut. Even Gus could sense that something was very wrong for he left Melanie's side and clung to his father who pulled him up and onto his lap.

Sadly shaking his head, Michael closed his eyes and took his own deep breath before opening them and looking into his daughter's eyes. "I'm so sorry, Honey Bunny," he whispered into her ears. "Daddy is so sorry. And he loves you so miss and will miss you so much. I wish I didn't have to…you be good for your mommy, okay? And Gus is here, he'll take good care of you."

Brian didn't know if he could stomach watching this. It was literally killing his friend, didn't the muncher realize that? He honestly hated this woman right now. And Lindsay and even himself. This shouldn't have happened.

Soaking in her scent one last time and giving her ample hugs and kisses, Michael shakily transferred Jenny Rebecca from his arms into her mother's. He couldn't look at her anymore, so he decided to make an exit but before he could, little arms wrapped themselves around his legs.

"I love you, Unca Mikey," Gus said so sweetly and sincerely.

"Oh," Michael said, his voice fractured, "I love you too, buddy." He reached down and gave Gus a big squeeze and even kissed his forehead, before walking out without a word to Melanie or Brian.

Standing up, Brian cleared his throat and told Melanie that they needed to talk. The look in his eyes was feral, so reluctantly she placed Jenny Rebecca in her bassinette and told Gus to watch his sister before following Brian into the kitchen.

"What do you want?" she hissed at him.

"You. Are. A. Miserable. Fucking. Cunt." His venomous words were slowly punctuated for effect.

"Excuse me?"

Steeling his hazel eyes at her, he repeated it. "I always knew you were a piece of work, but this? Is an all-time new low even for Melanie Marcus."

Her jaw set, she snarled, "How fucking _dare_ you! And in my house!"

Shaking his honey-glazed locks at her, he retorted, "No, how fucking dare _you_. I don't give a damn whose house this is. That little girl in there—" he told her, pointing towards the living room where the kids were—"that little girl in there was supposed to spend time with her father today. Her father whom she hasn't seen in a month, I might add. But because of unbelievably bad luck and circumstance, things changed. And because you are a selfish bitch who has no kindness within her, she doesn't get to see her father for another month."

Huffing, Melanie was about to smack him across the face when she heard Gus talking to Jenny Rebecca in the other room. She couldn't hit his father with him in the same house.

"If Michael has a problem, he can take it up with the court," she finally stated. "Now get the fuck out of my house."

"Gladly." He stepped one foot into the living room but then swiveled back around to face her. "You know, I have half a mind to take Gus with me right now."

Gritting her teeth, she stared at him. "You wouldn't," she dared.

Cocking a brow, he said, "You want to try me? I would. And I could get away with it, because unlike you and Michael, Gus's custody hasn't been dealt with through the courts. Lindsay is his biological mother, I'm his biological father, and you? Well you have visitation that we're gracious enough to give."

Rolling her eyes, she reminded him that he had no right to give her anything, considering he terminated his rights. "And yet, Lindsay is the only one with physical custody of him and hey, I was just watching him so maybe I've decided that the environment I'm leaving him in, isn't healthy for him."

"Lindsay won't like this."

Shrugging, Brian said, "You never know. Just remember this the next time you try to pull your bullshit with your daughter's father. You know what? I feel sorry for Jenny Rebecca."

With a spin on his heels, Brian marched past her and into the living room where he gave Gus a hug and told him he would see him real soon and that his Uncle Michael would see him too. Brian would make sure of it. Stroking Jenny's cheek, he said good-bye to her, promising her that he'd take care of her father, and then he strolled out of the house and into the driveway, noticing Michael's car was still there.

Weaving his hands through his hair, Brian took a deep breath before approaching the car door. He knocked on it, but Michael was frozen in place, tears streaming down his face. At that moment, Brian was having a hard time not running back into that house and doing some serious damage. But he couldn't. Still, he had this…_Rage_…bubbling within him.

"Mikey," he called out softly, continuing to knock on the door. He looked down and realized it was unlocked, so he flung it open.

"Mikey…I'm so sorry," he began, at a loss of what to say or do.

"I don't know what I did to make her hate me that much," Michael finally whispered, minutes later.

"You didn't do a thing. She's a miserable cunt."

"I did something. She hates me, Lindsay can't stand me, my mother, my …" before saying anymore, his tear-streaked face looked up at Brian.

Not being able to stand it any longer, Brian reached out and cupped Michael's chin. "Look at me. You did nothing wrong."

Shaking his head, he said, "Yes I did. You were right. I wanted too much, I expected too much, and when my heroes let me down, my little heart got crushed. Well it's never been crushed like this."

"I was a fucking asshole," Brian admitted, stroking Michael's face with the pads of his thumbs.

Michael let out a semi-hysterical laugh. "Did you tell the professor?" wondered Brian, thinking of how wrong it was that Michael's husband wasn't there for him, to ease his pain.

Michael shook his head. "Only Hunter because he'd sent me messages while we were inside, asking what was going on. He can't believe it either and pretty much called Melanie the same thing you did."

Snorting, Brian said that Hunter was a smart kid. "Is there anything? Mikey, can I?" Brian stuttered, feeling so helpless.

"No," Michael told him, his voice bitter. "There's nothing anyone can do."

Fuck that. Drawing Michael's face towards him, Brian laid an unexpected kiss on Michael's lips which protested at first but then sank into the embrace until they were both startled by the sound of Michael's cell. Pulling apart at the same time, they didn't look at each other as he answered his phone.

"Ben?" Michael questioned, his voice sad and weary.

"You talked to Hunter? Yeah. Yeah. Can we go—what? You? Fine. Sure. Yeah, I understand. Yeah. Love you too." His voice didn't sound very convincing, whatever he was responding to. "Bye." Michael shut his phone and then turned to Brian. "I have to go."

"What did Big Ben want?"

"It's not important."

"Obviously it is. Is he going to be there when you get home? Michael?"

Michael didn't say anything, just stared out the window momentarily before straightening himself out and turning on the ignition.

"Mikey, come on, talk to me."

"There's nothing left to say, Brian. Don't you get that?"

Hazel eyes widened in fear. Michael did not mean that—did he?

"I have to go. So you need to go."

"This isn't over, Mikey," Brian told him with determination as he looked into his best friend's mesmerizing eyes.

"It never began," was Michael's quiet response before grabbing the handle and pulling the door shut.

Without a glance towards Brian who had stood off by his own car, Michael sped away, leaving a very confused Brian in his wake.

What the fuck was that about?

Brian was going to get to the bottom of it. He owed it to Michael and to Jenny Rebecca.

**~&~&~&~...TBC...~&~&~&~**


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Notes: **Thank you so much for the reviews! I don't like to 'beg' for reviews, it just doesn't feel right, but I must admit that I was getting frustrated by the lack of reviews as I knew people were reading. Thanks to the reviews, I decided to continue posting chapters.

_Tayrana—I'm afraid it's about to get sadder. Thank you for your reply though, I'm glad you like the story and my writing, that you feel what the characters are (though in this chapter that might not be a good idea, just a warning). Melanie was definitely a witch with a capital B in chapter 3 and as for Justin, I agree with you! Hope you enjoy this chapter._

_ebonyeyez1__—Thank you for taking the time to read and review. "Angsty as hell" is a very apt description, unfortunately chapter 4 is pretty angsty as well. Brian will come through for Michael though. Yes, Michael is at his wits end, what with the custody issue/Melanie's bitchiness, his estrangement from his best friend and his husband's poor behavior. _

Warning: if you thought chapter 3 was angst-filled, chapter 4 is not light and breezy, sorry to say!

Chapter Four

After the disaster of Michael's "visit" at Melanie's, he sped off into oblivion. He drove round and round, here and there and everywhere and nowhere, for hours. There was no destination in mind. He just needed to get away. A part of him wished he could really get the fuck out of the Pitts, but he had responsibilities and didn't have the luxury of fleeing. Eventually, he returned home, lonely and depressed. The house was empty. Ben was…out…Michael didn't know where and a part of him was beginning not to care. He couldn't recall the last time his husband had been home all day. Of course, there was always an excuse, a cop-out. _I have class today, babe. I'm working on a new novel (yeah because novel #2 went over so well). I'm going to the gym. I'm tutoring students. I'm_—blah, fucking blah. A couple of weeks ago, Michael had told Ben that they needed to talk, and Ben agreed but had it happened? Of course not. Pinning him down to actually talk to him was next to impossible these days. Michael had wanted Ben to be there today when he picked up Jenny Rebecca, to be a supportive husband and to act like he gave a damn as her stepfather, but other things were more important. Or other people. Yes, Michael had a sneaking suspicion that his husband was cheating on him and if he was? Fuck that and fuck him. He just wanted to know. It would be ironic if 'Zen' Ben as Brian called him was no better than David. Of course David swore up and down that he did nothing but get hand jobs—who the hell knows if that was true? Would Ben be saying, _sorry babe, he gave good head_? Not to mention the implication of multiple partners when one party is HIV+.

The other thing Michael feared was that Ben was back to using steroids. Ben seemed more pumped up than usual and was quicker to lash out at people. And there was the one time Ben shoved him, but he claimed it was an accident. Accident his ass. More likely it was 'roid Rage. The mood swings, the craziness. Yep, Michael was pretty much convinced that Ben was using again. It shouldn't surprise him, it's not like Ben got any help when he was using before. No, they had the dramatic moment of Michael threatening to inject himself with a dirty needle of Ben's which had supposedly horrified him so much that he'd quit cold turkey and Michael, well Michael wanted to believe him, to trust him, so he accepted it and for some time, more than a year, there was no evidence of any using. Maybe because Hunter came into their lives right after Ben "quit" and they were dealing with all that came along with him and Melanie's pregnancy and Rage the Movie and Ben's lame second novel, it was easy to hope that Ben was off the juice. There was no physical proof—no syringes lying around but that didn't mean he wasn't using. Maybe, maybe Ben was cheating on him and using again, now wouldn't that be a two-for-one special? Oh and to cap it off, if the person he was (hypothetically) cheating with was HIV+, even more fun!

Michael's throbbing head pounded harder as he pondered these thoughts. This was the last thing that he should be thinking of right now. His husband should be there, comforting him. But he wasn't. And Hunter? He tried and was a good kid (despite Hunter's own protests), and a bigger help than Michael could have expected but Michael couldn't burden the teen with more drama. The teen had enough of his own and didn't need that of two grown men… Hunter wasn't at home because he was at the movies with a friend of his and then they were going out for dinner. Michael was glad he had someone to do things with because after all the drama in the pool with his HIV status revealed, well Michael worried about him a lot. One couldn't get by without someone in their corner and Michael had always had Brian so he wanted something, someone, like that for Hunter.

Brian…Michael ached to be held by him, his hair stroked in the way that only Brian knew how to make it better. What he wanted more than anything was just a night of vegging—eating pizza, KFC, and Chinese until they were stuffed to the gills, drinking as much as they wanted, and smoking copious amounts of quality dope, all while watching movies from their heydays of the '80s or talking about stupid memories from high school. Michael was on edge and the dope would help him relax. He had nothing in the house. They'd gotten rid of it when they were having checkups from child welfare services regarding Hunter. Bad influence and all for the teen to be around a pot smoker. Michael snorted at that thought. He supposed that if he just called up Brian, he'd have that night of vegging but he didn't seem to have it within himself to make that call, to be the one to make the first overture.

He was still angry at Brian. For supporting Lindsay, for crossing that line that previously was invisible. And he was angry that Brian didn't seem to understand, didn't seem to get why _he_ was upset. And he was also jealous of Brian who was able to drop in on Gus pretty much whenever he wanted and hell, he could even hold Michael's own child with nary a consequence. But Michael, well he constantly dealt with the consequences.

Shuffling around the lonely house, Michael stepped into Jenny Rebecca's bedroom which was painted yellow—because it was a neutral color and it was opposite of the very girly pink at her mother's house—and had Winnie the Pooh trimming along the edges of the walls. He brushed his hand over the oak crib he'd purchased at the Big Q, recalling with a laugh Tracy giving him a big hug of congratulations, and put together on his own, no help from his husband. Ben had pretty much stayed out of the whole purchasing baby stuff. He said it wasn't really his 'thing.' Funny, for a man who claimed he wanted to have his own child, he didn't seem all that interested in his step-child, at least not once Michael lost any hope at custody.

Her room was very inviting and friendly for a child. At least that was his intention when he filled it with all the different knickknacks and things she'd want or need. There were plenty of toys and dolls and books (comic and "classic"), apparel, shoes, rocking chair, a wooden horsy for her to use when she was bigger. Every inch of that room was filled with love for the girl who lived there—the only thing missing was Jenny Rebecca herself.

Pulling Alexander "Alex" the bunny from out of his jacket, Michael held it as he sat down in the rocking chair and he just rocked away, trying to rid his mind of all of its pain and frustration. He was tired, sick and tired of all the bullshit in his life, of people he thought he could count on, letting him down and he just wanted it all to go away. And if that didn't work, he just wanted to fall asleep so he wouldn't have to think about any of it anymore. Mental exhaustion set itself in and he fell asleep in the rocking chair.

* * *

"Where the fuck have you been, dude?" Hunter demanded to know of Ben who had returned home at 2:30 in the morning.

"Hunter!" Ben was completely shocked to find Hunter waiting for him and accusing him of…well he didn't know what.

"I can't believe you've been gone all fucking day and night. What are you doing? Why weren't you home? With your husband." The teen glared at the older man who stood around nervously.

"I don't owe you any explanations," Ben finally told him.

Rolling his eyes, Hunter said, "You sure as fuck owe your husband some. Do you remember him, Ben? You know, the man you married." His voice was hard and his eyes steeled themselves upon Ben.

"That's our business, Hunter. Not yours."

"It sure as hell is my business when I come home and find him huddled in a ball in Jenny Rebecca's rocking chair, clutching her bunny, completely broken. He could have used you today."

At Ben's confused look, Hunter snarled, "Do you even realize what he went through today with that bitch Melanie? Do you?"

"The supervisor didn't show up, so he couldn't spend time with JR." His voice was monotone and he said it so nonchalantly as if it didn't matter. But it did. To Hunter and most especially to Michael.

"Her name is Jenny Rebecca or Jenny, not JR, first of all, and second of all, it wasn't just nice and neat like that. She pitched one bitch-fit. You weren't there—and neither was I, but I got the phone call afterwards and I heard how he sounded. He was hurting, badly. And you were gone."

"Look, I'm sorry Michael is upset, but he has to realize that those things might happen."

"Might happen? Are you fucking kidding me?" Hunter jerked his head at Ben.

Trying to justify himself, Ben started, "What do you want me to say? To do? I'm sorry Michael missed out, but it's not my fault and hell, it's not his fault that the supervisor wasn't there but he'll see her again—"

Hunter cut him off, scoffing, "Yeah. In another fucking month. If something just "happens to come up" he has to wait another month to see his daughter. You seem to think it's nothing. What the fuck is your problem? Even _I_ see how much he's hurting. You could show some fucking compassion."

Something switched in Ben and he walked closer to Hunter, breathing heavily upon him, pointing his index finger at Hunter's chest. "Do not, and I repeat, do not tell me how to handle my husband, you punk-ass bitch. I'm not going to have some snot-nosed teenage brat telling me how to treat my husband."

Hunter's mouth was agape. Ben had never called him names. Or acted so callously to him and about Michael.

"Or else what?" he challenged, wondering how far the crazy man might go.

Cornering the teen, Ben was adamant in his response. "Or else you'll suffer the consequences, do you understand me?"

Swallowing, Hunter backed away from the man he once held such respect for and whispered, "Loud and clear."

"What the fuck do you think you're doing, threatening our son?" roared Michael who seemingly came out of nowhere, stepping in between the two livid men.

"Baby, what are you doing up?" Ben questioned, his mood doing another 180. "You look awful," he told him after looking over him.

Annoyed, Michael rolled his eyes. "Gee, thanks for the endorsement."

Frowning, Ben amended his comment. "No, I mean you look exhausted. You had a trying day. Go get some rest."

Coffee-colored eyes widening, Michael gave a chuckle. "A 'trying' day? Try a day from hell. And I slept for hours until half an hour ago when I woke up and looked for you and what do I find but you not there—again—and then I decide to come downstairs and have a late-night snack and I hear the two of you fighting."

"Sorry dude," Hunter told him, hanging his head.

Shaking his head, Michael told him, "Don't you dare apologize. It's Ben who owes you an apology. I don't know what the fuck has gotten into you, Ben, but you don't speak to Hunter like that. Ever. I don't care how pissed off you are." There was a glint in his eyes that conveyed he meant business.

Chagrined, Ben turned to Hunter and said, "Michael's right. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said those things."

Hunter was getting whiplash over Ben's 'tude. "Whatever, dude."

"Hunter? We'll talk later. Go back to bed, okay?" Michael told him, giving him a pat on the shoulder.

Hunter studied the twosome, nervous about leaving Michael with Ben. But Michael was pretty insistent. Nodding, the teen glowered at Ben before running upstairs and into his room where he promptly slammed the door shut and put his iPod on.

Downstairs, Michael remained in the middle of the living room with his arms crossed over his chest, an unmistakably livid look on his face. "What the fuck is wrong with you?"

Taking a deep breath to remain calm, Ben told him, "There's nothing wrong with me. I just had a lousy night."

Giving a scornful laugh, Michael retorted, "Really? _You_ had a lousy night? Interesting. And where did you experience such a lousy night? Cuz it sure as fuck wasn't here," he pointed out.

"I was out. With friends," Ben added, lest Michael get on him for being evasive or some other ridiculous nonsense.

"Friends? You have some of those?" was the sarcastic response he received.

Rolling his eyes, Ben stepped closer to Michael and told him that of course he did. Tapping his foot against the hardwood floor, Michael said, "I know you do. It's just that, I'm not privy to that information. Who your friends are. You've never introduced me. Do you realize that? Three fucking years later and I've never met your friends. Well, except for that one time when I tried to throw you a surprise party for your birthday and well, we all know how that turned out."

"We're not going to rehash that. I apologized to you, long ago, for my behavior."

"Ahh, that's right. You did. You know something? One or both of us always seems to be apologizing. Why is that?"

Hesitating, Ben ran a hand through his thick blond mane as he replied, "I don't know. But I am sorry about what I said to Hunter. He didn't deserve it."

Nodding in agreement, Michael said, "That's right. And I don't deserve you lying to my face every day. I'd add 'every night' but since you're rarely home these nights well…"

Holding his hands, Ben cracked his knuckles as he tried to formulate a response. "I was with friends. That's all. We go way back, to before—"

Michael was feeling penned in by Ben's proximity. He moved slightly away from the blond, crossing one foot in front of the other. "Before me?" he asked. "Before HIV and Paul?"

"Michael, don't act like you don't want to spend time with your friends, one in particular."

Biting the inside of his cheeks to stay calm, Michael hissed, "Don't you dare bring Brian into this conversation. He has nothing to do with your behavior. And FYI, in case you hadn't noticed, I haven't been going out with my friends, in a long-ass time. Why? Because _you're_ the one that doesn't like to go out. And so I wanted to be home with you because you're my husband and I thought I should do what you wanted, at least sometimes. Ironic, isn't it? You're the one who can't be away from his friends."

Pacing around the room, Michael added, "Friends that I don't know a go-dammed thing about. And you? You've met most of mine. You're well-acquainted with Brian, Teddy, Emmett, you even know Tracy. I met a couple of people at the party and at Paul's funeral, that's it. You won't let me in about them or about most fucking things in your life. Even though, crazily enough, I thought this was supposed to be _our_ life."

Ben grew more and irate at Michael's little rant. He was sick of the constant barrage of questions and disappointed looks in Michael's face, the sad tone of his voice. He was sick of Michael being so fucking needy.

"Are you finished?" he asked once Michael grew quiet.

Tilting a brow at him, Michael told him, "Well, actually I'm not. I'm just getting started. But it's late and I'm going back to bed. Alone," he added as he began to walk away because right now, he was far from in the mood to be sleeping next to the man he'd married.

Frustrated, Ben grabbed Michael's wrist to pull him back, only he wasn't paying attention and he yanked so hard, twisting it, that Michael yelped, tears forming instantly in his eyes at the pain.

"This conversation is over, Michael," insisted Ben. "Do you hear me?"

Gingerly holding his wrist—which could be sprained for all he knew—Michael nodded. "Yeah, loud and clear. Don't fucking come into the room tonight. Maybe ever again."

His resolve was clear. But Ben wasn't going to have it so he grabbed Michael again by the injured wrist and pulled harder, until Michael's chest fell against him. "This is my house, Michael. I can go wherever I damn well please." His voice was chillingly cold and evil. His hold was tight, painfully so that Michael felt like he was suffocating in those arms.

"Get the fuck off of me!" Michael shouted, pushing at Ben's chest with his good hand and stepping on his foot but that only infuriated the professor even more.

"Don't you fucking raise your voice to me again!" Before he had a chance to duck, Ben came swinging at him, punching him hard across the face, so hard his knuckles grazed Michael's teeth, breaking skin, before his fist connected with his eye. It hurt so much worse than when Brian had punched him. Michael nearly keeled over from the pain but he held strong.

"You need to learn your place," Ben told him with wild eyes as Michael stared back at him with only one eye open, in abject horror. There was no longer any doubt in his mind: Ben was back to (ab)using Steroids. Was this what it was like when Ben slammed Brian against the lockers? Michael didn't get a chance to contemplate that because he wasn't going to allow Ben to get away with it, he wasn't going to be some passive pussy, so he kneed Ben in the groin which momentarily caught the older man off-guard and he started to dart out of there when out of nowhere, Ben caught him, slamming him against the wall, Michael hitting his head against a glass framed photo (of him and Jenny) which shattered upon impact, shards of glass spraying Michael's head.

Hunter had been in his room, trying not to think about the fighting he was sure that was occurring downstairs; trying not to worry for Michael's safety. He didn't know why he feared that Ben might become violent with Michael, but he was a hustler once, he lived on the streets and had been around a lot of nasty stuff and nasty people. He'd seen men like Ben before, hopped up on some drug or another doing major damage to people…holy fuck! It suddenly dawned on Hunter why he was so scared. Though neither had confided in him before, Hunter learned via the custody hearing that Ben had a problem with Steroids, though he swore that he'd cleaned himself up right before they met. What if that was all a lie? What if he was back on them? Ben was beefy enough without any enhancements, with those drugs, there's no telling what he was capable of, especially against a man of Michael's small stature.

Hopping off his bed, he flew down the stairs and into the living room just in time to hear the thud that was Michael falling to the ground after hitting his head on a frame. _Holy fucking shit!_

"Michael!" he cried out in fear at the crumpled form. "Michael!" He ran to his side and checked for a pulse. Thank God he found one.

"You fucking animal!" he shouted out at Ben who was breathing heavily as he was coming off his adrenaline rush and realizing what he'd done.

"Oh my God," Ben began. "Oh my God, oh my God. Baby…" He looked upon Michael in utter shock and revulsion. _What the fuck did had he done?_ Rushing to his husband's side, he reached out to touch him but Hunter wouldn't permit him access.

"Get the fuck away from him!" ordered the frightened teen, not looking up from Michael.

"Hunter, I need to see if—he needs help," Ben told him, looking down in shame. His entire body was shaking. He'd never, he'd never intended it to go this far. He was only going to teach Michael a lesson, put him in his place.

"You're not going to help him!" Hunter yelled. His eyes briefly drew away from Michael and onto the monster who did this to him and when he noticed the blood trickling down Ben's hand, he wanted to vomit.

"Oh my God! You fucking asshole!"

Not understanding why Hunter was more distressed than a moment ago, Ben actually asked what was wrong.

"You fucking sick monster! If you gave him this…you're going to pay. Do you hear me?"

Gave him what? Ben was still confused and his head was beginning to throb, as was the hand that he used to punch Michael with. He looked down on it and that's when he saw, when he knew. His knuckles were scraped and bleeding from grazing Michael's teeth. Michael had come into contact with his infected blood.

Ben stared at his hand before staring at the trembling teen and then he ran into the bathroom where he immediately threw up.

Grabbing the nearest phone, Hunter dialed 911, telling them to hurry with an ambulance. If he was thinking properly, he would have asked for the cops to come and take Ben away for hurting Michael, but his only concern at the moment was that Michael get medical attention. Kneeling on the floor next to Michael's prone body, he carefully stroked Michael's cheek which was all bruised and his eye was shut and bruised. He looked over him and couldn't believe the amount of damage done in what he knew had to have been a relatively short amount of time. Shards of glass were stuck in his jet-black locks and he saw some droplets of blood which scared him. What if he had a serious head injury? Ben was strong and the force of the slam into fucking glass could have really hurt Michael.

"Don't worry. You're going to be okay. You have to be, Dad," his voice cracked as he finally called Michael the one thing that he knew Michael wished for (even though he'd never say so).

Although it felt like forever, it actually didn't take the ambulance that long to get there. Hunter stepped aside to allow them room to maneuver and that was when he noticed that Ben was nowhere to be found. Fucking coward must have left. _Well good_, Hunter bitterly thought. _He'd better leave and NEVER come back_.

He stood back as the medics carefully lifted Michael off the ground and placed him on a backboard and onto a gurney. One of the others pulled him aside, "Are you related?"

Nodding, Hunter told him with conviction, "Yes. He's my father. Is he going to be okay?"

"We'll know more once he's been examined at the hospital. His blood pressure is spiking as is his heart rate. I don't know what type of head injury he might have."

_Holy fucking shit_. Hunter hoped the guy was scaring him, head injuries? He hoped the medic just meant a concussion. It couldn't be worse than that…could it?!

"You can ride in the ambulance, son, come on," the medic told him and Hunter grabbed the keys to the house and Michael's cell which thankfully had been sitting on the ledge in the foyer and then he ran into the ambulance.

* * *

Once Brian peeled out of Melanie's driveway in his Stingray, he was at a loss of what to do with himself. He yearned to go to Michael and make things better, but how? He couldn't change things with the munchers; he couldn't take back the money he'd given Lindsay for the lawyer. He couldn't give Melanie a heart. He couldn't even begin to apologize for not supporting Michael in the first place. Brian Kinney doesn't do regrets or apologies…right? At this moment, Brian did have regrets and he felt like he owed apologies—primarily to Michael but also to Jenny Rebecca, for whatever part he may have played in her not being able to spend more time with her father.

He wasn't used to feeling guilty—guilt was one emotion he thought insufferable. But seeing Michael's daughter today, holding her, taking care of her for the briefest of moments, it changed his perspective about things. With Gus, although his rights were terminated, he still could see him pretty much whenever he wanted. Michael didn't have that. He could only see Jenny Rebecca once a month, for five hours, and it was fucking supervised! What kind of whacked judge was presiding over that case, that he was so harsh with Michael?

A small voice niggled in his head, asking him what kind of best friend was he, that he wasn't there that day in court to yell at the lawyer who smeared Michael's name (and the names of Michael's character witnesses—Emmett and Ted) in court? Or to pitch a fit when the custody was determined?

He wanted the voice to shut the hell up, but he couldn't escape it and he had a feeling that he wouldn't be able to shake this guilt, this…regret…that he had until he and Michael were able to talk and clear the air. In the meantime, their friendship was in limbo and it fucking sucked. Whenever they had strains in their relationship, it affected them deeply. Brian was quicker to snap at people and didn't have much patience. He was highly distracted at work. Cynthia noticed, Theodore did as well and for the most part, they backed off. Until a couple of weeks ago when they staged that stupid intervention.

Outside of work, Brian kept up his normal extracurricular activities. He went to the diner for breakfast and sometimes lunch, giving Debbie a hard time as usual but extra because he knew that she had sided with Melanie over her own son and that pissed him off; he went to Woody's for beer and pool and of course he went to Babylon for the sounds of the pumping music vibrating in his ears, the rush of the drugs he ingested coursing through his body, and most especially for the sights of beautiful male flesh who eagerly catered to his whims, whatever physical needs he had, they took care of him, in the back room, out back in the alley, wherever, whenever. Some of them he'd take home to fuck, some he didn't.

As for Justin, well they were pretty much at a standstill with their "relationship" as it was (and after all these years he was still loathe to use that phrase, particularly with the young man), because as always, they both wanted different things from it and from each other. Justin was becoming more and more determined to have what he wanted and what he wanted was a commitment. He wanted those three little words (even though he knew, Brian Kinney did sex, not love), he wanted a solid relationship, he wanted a house in the 'burbs with a yard and probably a fucking dog and kids and a marriage. He wanted to be a Stepford Fag, much like Michael had become. Whenever they were near Ben and Michael, Brian could sense Justin's jealousy of the married couple. Justin wouldn't come out and admit that he wanted that, but Brian knew. And he also knew he could never give that—not to Justin. Putting aside his marriage is worthless and for heteros and lesbians only, he simply did not care that way for Justin that he'd ever ask him to marry him. Snorting, Brian laughed, trying to picture how that would go. "Oh Justin, I'm sorry, after all these years I realized I _do_ love you and I want to marry you and I want to adopt a kid with you." Yeah fucking right.

Brian did care for the kid (and even though he'd aged over five years, in essence he was still a kid), but not to the level that Justin may have deserved and certainly not to the level that Justin aspired. Brian could count on one hand the number of people he loved. There was Michael, always have, always will, even if they were fighting that didn't change how he felt; there was Lindsay though God knew he wanted to strangle her sometimes (not literally, of course but she could drive him insane), there was Vic Grassi, Rest in Peace, and there was Gus (Gus came after Michael of course). Okay, on occasion he supposed he loved Debbie too but she was too infuriating. It's funny, he wouldn't have loved any of those people had it not been for Michael. Because before Michael, he never thought he could care for someone so much. He never thought he wanted to. Not after what he went through with his own family. Families were supposed to love you unconditionally, particularly parents but not Jack and Joan Kinney. Claire might have loved him at one point, Brian honestly didn't know when that had changed. But although he felt something for her and even something for Joanie (mostly that she was a pathetic drunk who clung to her religion), he couldn't look at her the same after she allowed her son to accuse him of molesting him. Brian was fine on his own; he did not need to count on anyone; he knew he could sail through life without. Until that day in eighth grade when he transferred to a different junior high and met Mikey in English class. He learned that he could count on people and if not people then one person. As long as he had his Mikey, that was enough to get by. He had his best friend and whatever flavor of the night and then he met Lindsay and somehow they became friends and then came Gus. Everything changed the night he was born.

But back to Justin. He was getting restless, and Brian couldn't blame him. However, Justin knew the score where Brian was concerned, he knew what Brian was willing to give and what he wouldn't. So they weren't living together anymore (and it was really best that way) and sometimes they went days without seeing each other, though Justin was calling him and sending him texts, still retaining that stalking tendency, and they still fucked when the mood struck. Brian wouldn't be surprised, however, if Justin found himself a new fiddler. This maybe would be for the best.

All of this contemplation was giving Brian a headache. After driving around with no destination in mind, he grew bored and then went out to Babylon, which was rather early for him. He got there and zeroed in on a few boys who he hoped could satisfy his cravings. The trail mix as Mikey always called it, helped his mood. Getting sucked off in a corner of the darkly-lit backroom helped as well. Finally, taking home the hottest guy he'd had in weeks and fucking his brains out, well that _really_ helped. His desire was to fuck away the haunted look in Michael's face.

* * *

Though the trip to the hospital was relatively short, Hunter felt like it had lasted forever. He wanted to yell at the ambulance driver to hurry the fuck up and to fix Michael but he held back. All he could do was sit next to Michael on the floor of the back of the ambulance, utterly helpless. He did hold Michael's hand—well the one that didn't look like it'd been hurt (what the fuck had Ben done before he shoved Michael against the wall?).

Once they were inside the hospital, the medics transferred Michael to an ER room and all they could do was wait for a physician to examine him. Hunter was told to stay outside and to fill out some forms that the admittance receptionist gave him. He tried to sit down and concentrate on filling it in but his eyes were glazed over and exhaustion started to seep in. It was late—or early, depending on how you looked at it—and he was tired, emotionally spent from what happened. He was scared to death for Michael and he was pissed as hell about Ben. And he also felt guilty because if he hadn't left for his room, maybe this wouldn't have happened. Maybe Michael would be safe in his bed and Ben on the couch or something and this nightmare wouldn't have occurred.

"Shit," Hunter muttered under his breath, hastily wiping away a tear which had fallen onto the clipboard. He didn't know how to answer most of these questions. He didn't know enough, how could he not know these things when he'd lived with the man for all this time?

Hunter knew he had to call someone, someone who could hopefully him fill in the blanks. And people did need to know what happened. The problem was, who to call? Debbie should have been his first choice, after all, she was Michael's mother, no matter what their relationship was like and she deserved to know. But right now, Hunter could not deal with her hysterics and histrionics and he was positive it was the last thing that Michael needed. So if not Debbie…Hunter stood up, placing the clipboard on the chair in the ER waiting room and he walked over to a wall to make the call. Pulling Michael's cell phone out of his back pocket, he opened it up and looked at his list of contacts. Somehow, it didn't phase him that Michael's number one contact was not his husband, Ben, but instead it was his best friend, Brian. Brian would know the answers, he knew everything about Michael. And though he knew there was some sort of rift between the two, ultimately he knew that Brian would want to know so even if Michael got mad at him, he'd deal with it.

Hands shaking, Hunter pressed "1" on the phone and waited for Brian to pick up. As it kept ringing, he chanted "Come on Kinney, pick your fucking phone up!"

Groggily, Brian started to awaken to the sound of his ringing cell. Blinking rapidly, his eyes could barely focus as they looked at his clock which read 3:55 AM. Who the fuck would call at this hour?! Blindly reaching for his cell he opened it and saw "Mikey" blinking on the screen. Michael's calling? This was a surprise. The ring was shrill in his ear so he answered it. "Mikey?"

No sound came out of the other end and Brian waited for him to say something. Sighing, he finally said, "Mikey, I know it's you. It says so on my phone."

A voice finally spoke up, but it was not Michael's. "B-Brian?" asked the nervous voice on the other end.

"Who the fuck is this and why the fuck do you have Mikey's cell?" he asked, pissed off.

"It's Hunter."

"Hunter?" he repeated. Why would Hunter be calling him and on Mikey's….oh God, suddenly a sinking feeling washed through him.

His voice barely audible, the teen replied, "You need to come here. The hospital. It's Michael."

Sitting up in his bed, Brian stared in shock. Mikey? Hospital? "What the fuck?" he started to ask but the boy would only say to meet him in the waiting room in the ER and then the phone clicked off.

In a panic, Brian jumped out of bed, stumbling on clothes that belonged to…who was in his bed again? Pushing on the other body, Brian yelled, "Get the fuck out of my loft!"

The man protested but Brian was insistent and seeing the look in his eyes, he knew he had no other alternative than to leave. Brian didn't say another word, he just slipped into a pair of jeans and pulled on a shirt, he didn't care if it was dirty or clean or even his, and slipped into a pair of shoes, before grabbing his keys and rushing out of the loft and into his car, speeding the entire trip to the hospital, fearing the worst. What if Michael had been so despondent that he'd gotten high with the wrong people? What if he'd been in a car accident? What if he, what if, what if…Brian couldn't stop his brain from imagining every worst-case scenario.

The car came to a screeching halt as he parked in the Emergency Area parking lot, not caring if he wasn't supposed to be there and would likely get a ticket and hell the car could even get towed. _Fuck the car, this was Mikey_.

He raced into the ER waiting room, searching for someone to tell him that Mikey was going to be okay. He didn't spot Hunter right away so then he looked around for a red wig attached to a loud-mouthed, busybody waitress, but didn't find her. His eyes also darted around, searching for the blond professor but he was nowhere in sight. No Debbie and no Ben? Maybe mother and husband were in Michael's room with him. Hazel eyes finally set upon Hunter who was sitting on the floor, his head leaning against the wall, looking completely forlorn and scared out of his mind.

Bending down, Brian tapped Hunter on the shoulder and the teen gave a shudder. "Hey," Brian said softly.

"Brian!" Hunter was relieved to see him. "Wow that was quick."

"Yeah well I don't care about running red lights so...how is Mikey?" he asked, cutting straight to the point. He hated making chit-chat and now was not the time. His only concern was Michael's well-being.

"I, I don't know," Hunter admitted. "They haven't come out and told me."

"He's being examined?" assumed Brian and the former hustler gave him a small nod.

"He's going to be okay though, right Hunter?"

Hunter couldn't look up into Brian's eyes. He didn't know. That was the truth. "I hope so…"

Fuck! What the fuck happened to him? His heart beat rapidly, his mind once again racing with imagined possibilities...

Standing up, Hunter walked over to the chair which held the clipboard of forms. "Brian, they need these forms filled out. I, I don't know most of the answers. I figured you would. Could you?" he asked with watery eyes.

Taking in Hunter's expression and appearance, Brian was more and more worried for Michael. All he wanted was for Michael to be okay. And he desperately wanted to know what the fuck happened, _why_ Mikey was hospitalized, but it didn't seem like the kid was going to budge at the moment. And if things were expedited by forms being filled out and handed in, Brian would do it. He grabbed the clipboard from Hunter and sat down in a chair to answer the questions. So many questions, God did they really need to know one's life history? At least Brian knew Mikey's.

It didn't take him long to finish the forms and when he did, he handed it back to the receptionist and then turned his attention back to Hunter.

"What happened to Michael?"

Hesitating, Hunter wasn't sure how to respond. Brian was going to flip and right now, Michael didn't need his best friend in jail for beating up his husband, no matter how badly that asshole deserved it.

He shook his head. So Brian tried another tactic. "Where are Deb and the Zen One?" Hunter snorted at that. There was nothing Zen about Ben right now. Maybe ever as Hunter was realizing he never really knew the professor.

"I'd assume sleeping—Debbie that is—and I don't give a fuck about the other."

His voice was harsh when he uttered that second part. Okay, what the fuck was that about? Brian wondered, his curiosity piqued. "Wait…Debbie's sleeping? What the fuck, her son's in the hospital…"

Shaking his head, Hunter explained, "She doesn't know. I didn't think Michael needed to deal with her…well you know…and I didn't want to."

Well Brian could definitely understand that mindset. Though at some point, she would need to be told and he'd probably have the regretful responsibility of informing her.

"And your other dad?"

"Don't call him that. He's not my father!" Hunter's voice reverberated in the waiting room and people gave him odd stares.

Brian was getting a very bad sinking feeling that Ben was somehow connected. But why? Oh shit. "It's the 'roids, isn't it? The professor did whatever this is, to Michael, didn't he?"

Not being able to evade the older man any longer, Hunter gave a sad shake of his head.

Briefly closing his eyes, Brian wanted to punch something—more accurately, he wanted to punch Benjamin's face in. If he beat up Mikey….he didn't have a chance in hell of escaping Brian's wrath!

Before Brian could ask any further questions of Hunter, a doctor came out of a room and approached Hunter. "Hunter Novotny?" he asked and Hunter nodded.

Novotny? Looking across at Hunter, Brian realized it was for the best for them to think that Hunter really was Michael's son.

Hunter stood up straight next to Brian whose eyes zeroed in on the doctor, both of them waiting for what they hoped was good news on Michael's condition, even though they both were pessimists.

"I have some news about your dad."


	5. Chapter 5

Author's Notes: _Oh I am so, so very sorry that I didn't post updates to this sooner. :( I don't have any good excuses, other than I'm trying to juggle this fic with my Tudors fic not to mention RL, lol._

_Thank you so very much for your reviews. They mean a lot to me and I will send a response to you individually._

Chapter 5

Brian and Hunter looked intently upon the young doctor, waiting for him to relay the news of Michael's condition. For his part, Brian could not stand being in the dark as he still didn't know the story as to _why_ Michael was hospitalized. So he couldn't help but blurt out, "How's Mikey?"

Peering first at Brian and then at the teen, the doctor asked, "And you are?"

Brian pondered lying by saying that he was Michael's (younger) brother, but he couldn't. Hunter solved the issue by answering for him. "He's Mic—my dad's—best friend, Brian Kinney. My dad would want him here, so anything you say to me, you can say it in front of Brian."

Brian gave him an appreciative look.

Nodding, the doctor replied, "That's fine. Your father is still unconscious—"

"Still? That's bad, isn't it?" Hunter looked at him, fear wide in his eyes.

"He has a pretty bad concussion. He also has a broken wrist, multiple contusions, his eye was swollen shut…" as the doctor rattled off a litany of Michael's injuries, both men stood there wordlessly.

Hunter was unsurprised by what was said but Brian…Brian could not believe his ears. What the fuck had Bruckner done to Mikey? He needed to get to the bottom of this, and the next time he came across the professor, well, there'd be hell to pay.

Continuing, the doctor said, "He's receiving painkillers intravenously for now. We expect that he'll regain consciousness late in the morning."

"Okay. Is he, is he in a lot of pain?" wondered the teen.

"No, not right now as he's on painkillers. Also, being unconscious prevents him from feeling the pain."

Relieved, Hunter asked, "Anything else? I mean, he'll be okay, right?"

"Yes. But he'll need time to heal. We will need him to spend at least the day here for observation—he's going to be transferred to a room shortly."

"Make it a private room, Doc," Brian said all of a sudden.

"I take it—"

Interrupting him, Brian told him, "Yeah, I'll pay for it. I want Mikey to get the best. Anything he needs, I'll cover it."

"That's very generous of you, Mr. Kinney. I'll let them know."

Brian brushed off the compliment—he wasn't being generous, not to his thinking. His only concern was Michael's well-being and it would be best for him to be in a private room. He knew that if Mikey were conscious, he would protest the gesture, claiming that Brian shouldn't waste his money but Brian would tell him to suck it up and deal.

"Can we see him?" Brian asked, needing the doctor to say yes.

"You two can go in and see him once he's been transferred to a room. But you can't stay for very long."

"That's fine," Hunter said even though he wanted to stay with Michael until he woke up. But for now, he'd play by the hospital rules. It's what Michael would want.

"One more thing," the doctor said, "I'm afraid we had to cut his hair, to remove some of the shards of glass."

Brian was about to have a conniption. "Shards of glass?! What the fuck, Hunter…"

"I'll explain in a little bit, Brian," Hunter promised, trying to brush him off right now. Turning back to the doctor he said, "That's okay. Can I uh, can I talk to you privately for a minute?"

Brian was about to protest when the doctor said, "Of course. And then I'm sorry but I'm afraid I have to check on a few other patients. I'll have someone get in touch with you when your father has a room and you can go in for a few minutes."

With Brian out of his hair, Hunter took a deep breath before saying, "Look, I don't know if you were told but Mi—Dad—was exposed to HIV when he got injured. The guy who did this to him, he's HIV positive and he broke skin; I saw blood on his knuckles."

Nodding, the doctor said, "Yes, I'm aware. It was in the chart. I assure you that this did not make a difference in the care your father received. But I'm sure you want to know the test results; unfortunately, it will take a day before we get the results; I'm sorry. And even once we have those, it will take a good three to six months to be certain."

Hunter bowed his head in fear. "I know the drill."

"But listen, there's a protocol that you might not know about, it's called post-exposure prophylaxis or PEP—it's a protocol for those who have been exposed to HIV and AIDS and there have been positive results. It's used primarily in the health field but also outside. Regardless of what the initial HIV test results say, we will put him on the protocol for a course of 28 days. That increases his odds, in his favor."

Releasing a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding, Hunter whispered, "Thank God. I had no idea about PEP."

"A lot of people don't, not until they need to."

"Yeah, I'm sure." It was a bittersweet moment for him. "Thank you, for everything you've done for my dad."

"Of course. Listen, the proper authorities are going to have to be involved in your father's case."

Sighing, Hunter told him that he figured as much. The cops needed to be involved but could Michael have some time? The doctor said that they wouldn't have the cops talk to Michael until he was up and able to, but it was likely that they'd need to get Hunter's version of what happened on record first. Hunter hated talking to cops, especially after the whole Jason Kemp drama. But he supposed that Carl might be okay to talk to. He didn't say this to the doctor, of course. He just thanked him and went back to Brian, who was leaning against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest, his feet tapping against the tiled floor. Shit, he could no longer evade Brian's questions.

"Hunter," Brian acknowledged when the teen came back and the doc left.

"Can we go somewhere else to have this talk?" Hunter asked nervously, not wanting to watch Brian Kinney, aka "Rage" pitch a fit in front of onlookers in the waiting room of the ER.

Tiredly nodding his head, Brian told Hunter to follow him and they wound up on the roof of the hospital, which held special meaning to Brian, because of Michael.

He stood overlooking the street while Hunter walked up beside him. "Wow, nice view. Kind of high up here, huh?"

"Yeah. If you fell off, it'd be a pretty hard splat."

"You're not going to?"

"Jump? Please. Your…what did you call him? Dad. Your dad, Michael, did you know he stood up on this ledge here, more than five years ago?"

Hunter couldn't believe it. "No. Why would he? Was he suicidal or something?"

Giving a bitter laugh, Brian explained, "No. But I think he might have feared that I was. I was on there, overlooking the city and having this big, melodramatic moment about aging and life-changing and becoming a father—it was the night Gus was born—and Michael was there with me as he's always there. When I wouldn't get down, I reached out my hand to him, not quite knowing if he'd accept it. But he did. He grabbed my hand and I pulled him up and he stood in front of me. Because he's brave and strong, pretty much the bravest and strongest person I know."

Swallowing, Hunter had to agree. "Yeah. He is. Did you ahh—did you come up here for him, after Jenny Rebecca was born? Sort of like a tradition."

Shaking his head, Brian said there wasn't time. "Michael was with her and the lesbians and you and Benjamin were there. I didn't have any alone time with him." In his head, Brian corrected himself: he didn't _make_ time for the new dad.

Frowning, Hunter felt bad for Brian. He looked upset about this. And he was upset enough about Michael and afraid for him, Hunter could tell.

Finally turning to look at the former hustler, Brian took a deep breath and exhaled before asking, "What the hell did Bruckner do to him? I mean, I gathered bits and pieces of the story, based on his list of injuries that the doc covered but how did this all happen?"

Hunter composed himself so that he could explain what had occurred. "When I got home last night, I was looking for Michael to see how he was doing. I knew he had been devastated about what happened when he tried to visit Jenny Rebecca…"

Brian nodded, remembering the distressed look in his best friend's eyes. "So anyway, I knew he was home because I saw his car in the driveway, but the entire house was dark and he wasn't in their—his—room. I found him curled up into a ball in Jenny's rocking chair, in the nursery, clutching that damned bunny."

"Alex," Brian said softly.

"Yeah. It was pretty late and Ben still wasn't home, so I went downstairs and was watching TV, waiting for him to return so I could chew him out, for you know, not being there for Michael."

_Good boy_, thought Brian.

Taking a breath, Hunter continued. "He got home about 2:30 and I confronted him. He was acting suspiciously. This is becoming a habit for him. He got ticked that I was asking questions and basically told me that it was none of my fucking business. He was really pissed and he got in my face…"

"Did he hit you?" wondered Brian as he looked the teen over—there was no visible evidence, but one couldn't be sure.

Shaking his head, Hunter said, "Nah man. Didn't get to that. I don't know if he would have. But he called me names and was just a lot meaner than I've ever seen him. Michael must have heard us arguing because all of a sudden he was there and yelling at Ben not to speak to me like that and telling him he needed to apologize to me."

That sounded like Mikey. "Did he?"

"Yeah, but I think it was just for Michael's benefit. Whatever, I don't give a shit. I could tell that Michael was really pissed at him, because Ben sort of brushed everything off, like it was no big deal. Then Michael told me to go up to bed. I didn't want to leave him there, but what could I do? I went up to my room and put my iPod on. I know they were fighting though."

"You could hear them, even with your music on?" Wow, it must have been really awful.

"Nah, but I just knew. Anyway, I was getting really worried for some reason, based on Ben's behavior. I feared Michael's safety and it dawned on me why—because of the Steroids. Did you know that they never told me about it?"

Brian wasn't unsurprised. "I found out that day in court from Lindsay's lawyer."

Cringing, Brian told Hunter to go on. "Anyway, it suddenly made sense, his off-kilter attitude and behavior. And I'd seen enough on the streets to know what guys are like on drugs and Ben? He's a beefy enough guy without being chemically enhanced. He could do a lot of damage to a person."

Brian didn't tell him that he knew this first-hand. "So I went downstairs to check on them and that's when I saw Michael, falling to the ground after hitting his head on the wall—well actually, hitting it on a glass-framed picture of him and Jenny. Pretty ironic, huh? The thud his body made as he fell…crumpled…to the ground, was awful. Ben must have slammed him pretty hard. There was glass everywhere, especially in his hair. There was blood in his hair. It was…" Hunter had to stop and collect himself for a moment before he could go on. The memories of what had occurred only hours ago were still fresh in his mind, the sights and sound.

He gave a shudder. "I ran to him right away and that's when I saw that his eye was swollen shut. Ben must have punched him before he shoved him. I don't know what he did to the wrist. As I was checking for a pulse, Ben tried to approach Michael, but I wouldn't let him. I told him to get the fuck away and that he was going to pay."

"He will," Brian assured Hunter, his voice chillingly cold as he looked down upon the street again.

Nodding, Hunter said that was good. "That's all I know. Ambulance got there pretty fast and then when I got here, I decided to call you and you know the rest."

Facing Hunter again, Brian looked into the teen's eyes, knowing that he was keeping something from him. "That's not all. You're leaving something out."

Growing defensive, Hunter backed up and said, "Dude. I told you everything."

Shaking his head, Brian reminded him, "You talked to the doctor about Mikey without me there. You must have told him or asked him something that you didn't want me to know."

Shit. He was expecting this, but it didn't make things any easier.

Closing his eyes for a brief moment, Brian pinched the bridge of his nose before saying, "You wanted to know if they were going to give Mikey an HIV test, right?"

Hunter stared at him, surprised that Brian had astutely guessed about his conversation with Michael's doctor. "It's only logical. Ben punched him…"

"His knuckles were bleeding," Hunter whispered. "When I looked over at him, I saw the blood. I wanted to vomit."

So did Brian. "Fucking hell!" he swore, pacing the roof. Ben directly exposed his contaminated blood to Michael. If Mikey gets HIV…no, he can't go there. He won't.

"It'll be a day before the results, right?" Brian decided to ask. He knew from experience.

"Yeah. But the doctor said that there's this thing, he called it PEP. I can't remember what it stands for. It's some kind of protocol where if you've been exposed, it might reduce your risk."

Brian hadn't heard of that because it wasn't like he frequently came in contact with HIV and AIDS. Even knowing that Mikey was both married to a man who had the disease as well as father to a boy who had it, Brian didn't stay up-to-date. He protected himself, _always_. And he went in for his routine blood tests, like any smart gay man should do. There was always a fear, not for himself, but for Mikey. Anything could happen with Ben, any kind of accident, a tear in a condom, not pulling out soon enough. Brian's mind had raced with all these scenarios from the minute he found out that Ben had HIV and that Michael was still willing to be with him. Adding the steroids, the dirty needles and the violent outbursts, well that scared Brian even more for his friend. But Michael was a big boy, he was an adult capable of making his own decisions and how could Brian stop him? And now, now one of his biggest fears might come true.

Hunter didn't notice the whirlwind of thoughts and emotions that crossed Brian's face. He was trying to remember what the doctor told him. "Anyway, whatever the test results say, they're going to put him on this protocol for 28 days and then he'll get tested again in three months and in six."

Brian didn't say anything; he just gave a small nod of his head. Six months of waiting and wondering and worrying. This was so fucked up. He wanted to find Bruckner and strangle him. That mother fucker didn't deserve to breathe after what he did to Michael.

Hunter grew nervous at Brian's silence. He expected Brian to flip out, to rail against the world, or at least against Ben, to punch something, anything but instead he stood ramrod straight and utterly silent.

"I'm sorry dude," he finally said.

"What the fuck are you sorry about?" Brian asked, incredulous.

"I shouldn't have left Michael alone with him. I should have been down there, maybe then Ben wouldn't have hurt him."

Shaking his head, Brian told him, "Bullshit. If Ben wanted to hurt somebody, he was going to do it. Michael got caught in the crossfire of the Juice Pig. What if you had stayed down there and he attacked you instead? Michael would never live with himself if something happened to you, kid. He'd gladly get in the line of fire to protect someone, especially his son."

Hunter choked up at that. He knew it was true. "The doc said that the police are going to be involved, come here to take Michael's statement when he's awake and feeling up to it and taking mine. I hate cops."

"Yeah, they're nobody's favorite people. I think I'll put in a call to Detective Horvath."

"That means Debbie—"

Cutting him off, Brian assured that he would handle her, which greatly relieved the teen.

They stayed on the roof a little while longer as Brian pulled out a joint and began to smoke it as he overlooked the city and thought back to that night five years ago, the feel of holding onto Michael so he wouldn't fall, the way Michael didn't even seem to be afraid as he stood there and turned around to give him a full hug. The feel of his lips. The sound of Michael's frustration at always being Lois Lane. The way Michael excitedly said "Congratulations…Dad." The touch of his forehead pressed against Michael's.

Sometimes he wondered if they both should have jumped that night. Saved them all this unnecessary baggage that had come in the past five years. Michael would never have met the doc or the professor, Justin wouldn't have been anything more than a one-time fuck, there'd be no custody battles fought and lost, or finding out that Lt. John Novotny was not Mikey's biological father. No more crap from Debbie. No losing jobs for Brian. Every fucked up move in the twosome's lives would be prevented if they'd jumped.

And yet, they'd have missed out on a lot too. Mikey becoming a dad. Owning his own comic book store and hell, writing his own comic. Brian starting up his business. Becoming closer to Gus.

His reverie was interrupted when Hunter awkwardly tapped him on the shoulder. "It's cold out here; let's go back in. I want to see if there's news on Michael."

Brian gave a nod and followed the young man back downstairs. They found the ER receptionist who told them that Michael had just been moved into his own private room and if they wanted, they could visit for a few minutes. Both of them were quiet as they rode the elevator together. Hunter was so tired and still quite worried even though he knew everything would be all right, at least physically, for Michael. Whereas Brian, Brian was harder to figure out. Brian knew that Hunter probably thought he was under-reacting to all of the news about Michael's injuries and the exposure to HIV but while he might have appeared so outwardly, inwardly he was a mess over this. Inwardly he wanted to yell and throw things, punch things, find Bruckner and beat _him_ up and then yell at the universe for allowing all of this to happen to _his_ Mikey. His stomach was churning in fury over everything. But now was not the time. It wouldn't do Hunter any good to see Brian flip out and Hunter had called him over anyone else, including Deb, so that in itself was a big deal and something for which he was grateful. No, they'd visit Michael and then he'd tell the kid to go home and get some sleep (yeah, as if that were possible for either one of them) and then he'd have the task of calling Horvath and Deb. He'd make sure that Benjamin paid, in one way or another.

When they reached Michael's room, one of the nurses who was in the hallway told them that Michael was still unconscious and they could have ten minutes with him. She alerted them to the fact that he was hooked up to IVs and looked pretty banged up so don't be alarmed. They thanked her and then both tiptoed into his room, not knowing why since he was still unconscious.

Brian heard a sharp intake of breath and he didn't know if it was his or Hunter's. They both stepped closer to Michael whose form looked so small and fragile on that bed, even though they both knew how strong he was. Brian was sick to see his injuries up close like that. What kind of animal was the professor, to do this to his husband? Michael's wrist was in a cast, his left eye was black and blue and purple. He had bruises and cuts and scrapes. His hair was shorter than Brian could ever recall Michael getting it cut on his own volition. Brian bet it felt fuzzy to touch; he was used to running his hands through Michael's dark locks. He didn't try to touch him though, he didn't want to possibly interrupt Michael's sleep, even though he knew that he wasn't sleeping but was unconscious from the concussion. He yearned to reach out and hold him tight and never let go.

Although he had seen the injuries right after they'd occurred, it was still a lot to take in for Hunter and he felt tears burning at his eyes. How could a man he had once held so much respect and admiration for have fallen so quickly? How could a man who supposedly wanted to adopt him abuse his husband like that? Hunter had no answers and he didn't want them from Ben. He'd had enough of the man. And there was no way he was going to live under the same roof with him again and no way was he going to let Ben adopt him. Most importantly, there was no fucking way he'd let him near Michael. Hunter fervently hoped that Michael was now finished with Ben. Though he knew that Michael was the type of guy to give multiple chances to people, some people simply did not deserve it, especially after doing something like this. Screw Ben, Hunter certainly didn't need him and neither did Michael.

He inched closer to Michael's bed and he tentatively reached out and stroked the outside palm of the hand that was undamaged. He looked over at Brian to see if he was going to say or do anything. Brian seemed anxious, nervous even. Maybe he should give them some time alone?

"Dude, I'll go out. You can have the rest of the time with him."

"You don't have—" Brian began to object but the young man shook his head and gave Michael a squeeze of his hand before exiting the room, leaving the best friends to themselves.

Sighing, Brian pulled over a stool next to the side of Michael's bed and he sat there and stared at him. His thoughts and emotions were overwhelming him. He didn't know what to say or do how to fix this and take away the pain. Particularly when the small body carried so much pain, of which Brian contributed to. When they were younger, as part of his best friend duties, Brian took it upon himself to protect Mikey from harm. Whenever their peers would pick on him—for not being smart enough or hot enough (yeah right, Mikey was always hot and Brian had told him that from the age of 14 on) or athletic enough or whatever their stupid, simple minds thought, Brian was there to tell them to back the fuck off. Sometimes he had to do more than tell; sometimes he got into altercations with those who physically threatened or attacked Mikey. Though Michael told him that it wasn't worth it (meaning he wasn't worth it) Brian told him that was nonsense. He'd do it again and again. And now, two decades later, Brian realized that he let his protective nature slide a bit. His best friend was an adult with responsibilities now; he insisted he could take care of himself. But tonight proved that Brian needed to step in again. It's not that he didn't have faith in Michael handling things; it's just that, sometimes he shouldn't have to.

Looking over those beautiful chocolate eyes that often displayed a myriad of emotions, Brian grimaced as he discovered up close just how badly bruised his left eye was. Christ, it was worse than when Brian had punched him…fuck. Brian didn't like to think about that day and how he'd been so incensed at Michael that he actually physically attacked him, punching him so hard he fell onto the ground and wound up with quite the shiner. As soon as Michael lay sprawled on the ground, Brian wanted to run to him and tend to his wounds but he couldn't. He couldn't because the enormity of what he'd done was weighing on him; he couldn't because Ben was right there to charge after him; he couldn't because any number of people would have protested and caused more of a scene than he'd already caused. So he backed away after giving Michael a sad glance and went out to lick his own wounds…which included buying a pricey piece of steak which he wrapped in a gift box (yeah he was twisted like that) to give to Michael.

"I shouldn't be thinking about that day," he finally spoke aloud.

Shaking his head, he sighed before adding, "But how can I not think of that, considering that was the last time you'd gotten into a physical altercation with somebody you lo…cared about. At least I think it was, please tell me, Mikey that this was the first— and last— time that Bruckner touched you. Please."

But Michael remained unresponsive, so Brian continued. "I'm really…God Mikey, how did things get so fucked up? This never should have happened. Never. The professor never should have gotten his hands on you. Why didn't I stop him when I had the chance? Why didn't I insist that you cut him out of your life the moment he started doing drugs the first time and he slammed me against the lockers? You said you would handle him, and I trusted you. Because you're one stubborn Italian and I knew no matter how I tried to sway you away from what I thought was a lost cause that would only give you the incentive to prove me otherwise."

If the circumstances were different, Brian would smirk at his remark. But now it just saddened him. "Still, I could have said, no, I could have _done something_. Instead I stood passively on the sidelines as you grew closer to him and began to build a life with him, first by taking in the little hustler, then that stupid 'wedding' in Toronto. What the fuck? I had the chance to put a stop to it then and there but then," he paused for a moment and sighed at the memory. "But then Debbie put an end to that. So I let you go, let you marry Bruckner and have a house in the 'burbs on Stepford Ave and raise your two darling children together as all I did was snark about your choices. Little did I know what was going-on behind the scenes. Why didn't you talk to me and tell me, Mikey? Why?" His voice implored his best friend to answer him, but it was futile.

Aching to touch him, Brian couldn't refrain from reaching out and stroking the side of Michael's face that was unmarred. "There's something else I need to tell you. Mikey I…"

He never finished his admission because the nurse came back in and told him that his time was up; she needed to check Michael's vitals and he needed to leave.

Nodding, he stood up and exited the room, giving one last soulful glance to his best friend. Once in the hall he spotted a forlorn Hunter leaning against the wall.

"Hey," Brian said softly, shaking the teen.

"Hey. Is he?"

"No change."

Exhaling, Hunter admitted, "I figured as much. So uhh, what now? Do I need to call someone?"

Shaking his head, Brian reminded him that he was going to call Horvath/Debbie. "You need to get some sleep, Hunter. You look beat." He immediately regretted his use of that phrase. "I mean, you look exhausted," he amended.

"I don't even know what time it is. Seven AM or so? Don't know. Don't care."

Brian understood that the only thing Hunter cared about at the moment was Michael.

"Go home and get some sleep, Hunter."

Hunter just stared at home. "Are you kidding me? Dude, I'm not going back there. What if he comes back?"

Damn, Brian hadn't thought of that. Before he could give it serious thought, he made the teen an offer. "You can stay at the loft. Get some sleep, have whatever's in the fridge to eat and drink, watch crap on the boob tube for all I care, just you know, chill out and relax. Take a shower if you want, you can find some clothes in the dresser."

Eyes widening in surprise, Hunter couldn't believe Brian was being so generous with him. "Dude, you don't have to…besides, I wanna wait til Michael's awake."

"I know but who knows how long that will be? And in the meantime I have calls to make—not only to Deb and Horvath but Theodore and Emmett, we have to figure out who should run the store while Michael is out of commission."

"Shit. I hadn't thought of that." He hung his head, feeling stupid.

"Hey, it's not your fault. You shouldn't worry about that crap. Go to my place. I'll call you the minute I know he's awake, okay?"

Seeing the boy's hesitation, Brian switched tactics. "You know this is what he'd want. He wouldn't want you waiting around and worrying about you. He'd want you to take care of yourself."

Damn he's good, mused Hunter. "Yeah, fine. I'll take a cab."

"Here," Brian shoved him a couple of twenties for the cab fare and he took off his loft keys and handed them to Hunter before explaining how his security system worked.

"Thanks dude," Hunter said, giving him a half-wave before walking out of the hospital.

Brian didn't have the luxury of sleep. He wanted to ask for a cot to be brought into Michael's room so he could be there but when he'd mentioned it earlier to a nurse she'd said that because he wasn't family it wasn't allowed. He'd wanted to throttle her and insist that they were family, blood be damned. Hell their kids were siblings after all, that had to count.

So instead he slumped into a recliner in the waiting room and pulled out his cell phone, staring before he made the call.

"Hello?" asked the sleepy voice on the other end.

"Horvath?"

"Who's this?" Carl asked, curious as to who was calling so early.

"Brian Kinney. Is Debbie there?"

Pausing, Carl looked over at the sleeping form of his lover. "She's asleep."

"I'm not going to bother asking how you know that." He shuddered at the image of Horvath and Debbie.

Groaning, Carl wondered, "What do you want, Kinney?"

"I need to talk to you—both of you, really. It's about Michael."

~&~&~&~...TBC...~&~&~&~


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's notes:**_Ack, I am so sorry for the lack of updates! I hope you like this one and thank you so much for your continued support. Warning: this chapter is not Debbie-friendly._

**Chapter 6**

"Where is he, where's my baby?" demanded a booming voice, causing the hair on Brian's neck to stand straight. Deborah Jean was here. The last person he wanted to deal with.

Looking across from where he was seated, Brian watched as Debbie shook her red wig in anger at a nurse. "Jeez, Debbie, they're just doing their job. Calm the fuck down."

Rolling her eyes at him, she said, "Easy for you to say. Your son hasn't been hospitalized."

Brian glared at her. Did he not count at all with her, anymore, except to chide whenever she damn-well pleased? Gus isn't in there; her son is, and her son is _his_ best friend.

"Mikey's my best friend," he reminded her. "Don't act like that doesn't mean anything to me."

She was about to get in his face and protest when Carl placed a hand on her shoulder. "Leave him be, Deb."

Turning around to give him an incredulous look, she snorted and said, "Yeah, right. Not until I know where my baby is and what happened to him."

"Michael's not a fucking baby, Deb. He's a grown man," Brian pointed out.

"He'll always be my baby."

Brian just shook his head at her while Carl's gaze ping-ponged between the two.

When he'd received the phone call from Brian earlier, the young man was rather evasive about the situation. Brian just said that they'd need to get to the hospital because Michael was hurt and that Carl needed to be there in an official capacity as well. Carl's curiosity was piqued. He was worried about Deb's reaction to whatever Brian spilled…if he did.

"What did the nurse say?" he asked her, to switch the subject off of Brian.

"Not much. They won't let me see him. He's unconscious!"

Carl told her there was nothing she could do for her son, no matter how badly she wanted to be in there. "Why don't you see if you can find a doctor to tell you what his injuries are, his prognosis," he suggested.

"Why bother when he can tell me," she said, pointing at Brian.

Brian was about to speak when he heard a voice calling out, "Brian, what happened to Michael?" Theodore. Looking across the room, he saw Emmett was with him, but he was uncharacteristically quiet.

Standing up, Brian stretched and leaned against the wall. "Michael has a pretty bad concussion and last I was told, is still unconscious."

Emmett and Ted both frowned. "That's not all, is it?" Ted wondered.

Nodding, Brian said, "I'm afraid not. He has several cuts and bruises, a broken wrist and an eye that was so badly black and blue it was swollen shut," he heard gasps when he added that. "They also had to cut his hair to remove shards of glass—"

"What?" Emmett interjected. "Why was there glass in Michael's hair? My poor baby."

"Em, let Brian talk," Ted spoke up.

"They said he should be okay. They want him here for at least a day for observation. They're giving him painkillers intravenously."

It was then when Ted looked around the waiting room, searching for Hunter and Ben. Where were they? Were they hurt too?

"Brian, where are Hunter and Ben?"

"Hunter is at the loft. He needed a break," informed Brian.

Ted wondered why the teen was at _Brian_'s loft of all places. Why not his own home?

Debbie couldn't believe that she hadn't inquired about Ben's whereabouts. "Where is my son-in-law? Is he in with Michael?"

Immediately, Brian's jaw set and his eyes narrowed. "He's never going near Michael again," he said, his voice low but determined.

Four pairs of eyes looked up in confusion at him. "I know he's not your favorite person, honey, but he is Michael's husband," reminded Emmett.

"Yeah, I know. But thank God it's illegal here."

"Brian Alexander Kinney!" hushed Debbie. "What has gotten into you? How could you say such a thing?"

Shaking his head, Brian just stared at her. She was a piece of work. "I don't give a damn about the 'cause,' Deborah. Never have, never will. What I do care about is Mikey. And that bastard who claimed to love him and honor him and whatever the fuck else was in those vows is not getting within ten feet of him. Carl can have a restraining order arranged."

Carl looked at Brian suspiciously. "Why would Michael need a restraining order from his own husband?" asked a doubtful Ted.

It was Emmett who had pieced enough together to come to the horrible conclusion of what had been done to their best friend. "Because, Teddy," he began, placing a hand on his ex-lover's shoulder. "He's the one who hurt Michael. Right, Brian? That's what you're trying to say," he said softly, looking back at Brian who gave a slow nod of his head.

"You're lying," Debbie spouted, furor at Brian building up inside her.

Shaking his head, Brian said, "I'm not. Your…son-in-law hurt Michael. So badly that it left him unconscious."

Shaking her head, Debbie tried to object, "No. No. Ben would _never_ do that to Michael. He loves him." She glared at Brian as she said that.

"What, as opposed to me? God you really don't have a fucking clue, do you?"

Not wanting a fight to break out between the two, Carl stepped in the middle and asked, "What happened, Brian? What did Ben do to Michael—allegedly?"

Rolling his eyes at the word "allegedly," Brian told him, "You can ask Hunter for the specifics. He was there. You need to get his statement. And Mikey, once he's up to it."

Nodding, Carl said he would but in the meantime would Brian just fill in the blanks for them.

Emmett and Ted huddled close together as they listened to Brian explain. "Ben came home late—again—and he got in Hunter's face."

Gasping, Emmett asked if Hunter was hurt too, but Brian said no. "They were arguing and Ben called Hunter some names, I don't know what, he didn't tell me. Anyway, Michael had come downstairs and must have heard them because he told Ben not to yell at Hunter again or call him names. Ben got on the defensive when Michael questioned where he was. Michael told Hunter to go to his room and he reluctantly did so. I don't know what happened between Michael and the Professor, only Michael does. Hunter said he started getting nervous about having left Michael there with Ben."

"Why is that?" asked Ted.

"Because, it dawned on him that Bruckner might be back on the juice."

Four pairs of eyes widened in surprise at Brian's statement, but it was starting to make "sense" as it were (which really, what Ben did to Michael was senseless).

"So he ran downstairs and that's when he saw Michael slump to the ground, immobile. He checked to make sure there was a pulse and that's when he saw the extent of Michael's injuries. Ben must have punched Michael at some point because his left eye was swollen shut—and I've seen that in person, if you don't believe me," he told them, looking pointedly at Debbie who was on edge.

Emmett sadly shook his head. _Poor Michael_.

"Ben evidently slammed Michael into the wall and he pushed so hard that Michael's head hit a glass frame which shattered, which is why he had shards of glass in his hair."

Ted and Emmett mutually gasped in horror and Carl shuddered, shaking his head. Debbie was eerily quiet and Brian wondered if she believed him.

"That's all I know. As I said," Brian turned his attention back to the detective, "You need to get a statement from Hunter."

Nodding, Carl promised that he would. "Has Bruckner been here?" he asked, even though he knew it was highly unlikely for the alleged abuser to stick around.

"Thank fuck he hasn't! Hunter said that he disappeared by the time the ambulance arrived and he's not been heard of since."

Looking straight at the man who held so much anger (rightly so) for the "man" who hurt his best friend, Carl stated, matter-of-factly that he and his guys would find Ben and handle it through the proper channels. Brian wanted to yell "fuck the proper fucking channels, I want to fucking kill the fucker," but he didn't. He just nodded.

Ted started pacing, struggling with the news of what had happened to Michael. "Teddy, what's wrong?" Emmett asked him, even though it was a bit ridiculous to ask—Michael was lying unconscious in the hospital, which was wrong in itself.

"I just…I am having a difficult time grasping the fact that Ben would do that to Michael," he admitted, not facing Brian.

Irritated, Brian walked over to Ted and made him face him. "People do fucked up shit when they're on drugs, don't they, Theodore?" There was no mistaking the meaning behind that.

Voice barely audible, Ted said, "I may have done a lot of fucked up things when I was on meth but I never laid a hand on Em or anyone else."

Sighing, Emmett said that it was true before adding, "But Teddy, Ben's not you. He's a lot more…he has a much bigger build than you and constantly working out at the gym only adds to that. And Steroids often make people full of," he paused, looking at Brian, "full of rage."

Debbie had been quiet this whole time, just shaking her head and wanting to argue with Brian but Carl placed a hand on her shoulder, telling her to just listen to the man.

"Why wouldn't he have told us?" Ted asked the one question they were all wondering.

"I can't answer that," Emmett said. He was saddened that the man whom he considered his best friend and in many ways a brother, would go through something like this alone…again. They never knew about Ben abusing Steroids until it came out in Court. Afterwards, he and Ted had confronted Michael about not sharing this with him and he said only Vic, Deb, and Brian had known. And then he clammed up, saying that it was an ugly time, but Ben didn't use again and he trusted his husband.

"This is just unbelievable," Debbie finally spoke up, causing Brian to whip his head around.

"Are you calling me a liar, Deborah Jean?"

Rolling her eyes, she told him not to put words in her mouth. "I would have noticed. I'm his mother."

Biting back an acidic remark, Brian said, "Yeah well, you two haven't been acting like yourselves ever since the court hearing where you sided with that cu—creature—Melanie Marcus over your own son."

Narrowing her eyes, Debbie said, "Don't you dare. I wasn't siding with her _over_ Michael. But Michael was wrong."

"Michael was wrong for ever thinking you would choose him over Melanie or Justin or whomever you deemed better or more important than your own flesh and blood."

"You have a lot of nerve to go off on me when you sided with Lindsay over your own supposed best friend, Michael. You two haven't been acting like yourselves either."

A flicker of pain etched on Brian's face for the briefest of moments before he put his mask back on. "Michael is my best friend. Always has been, always will be. You know what, I'm not even going to dignify this with a response. I made my choices, I live with the consequences. So will you. Just don't act like you care about him where Jenny Rebecca is concerned. After what she did to him yesterday…" his voice trailed off, leaving everyone looking at him for more details but he didn't provide any.

"This isn't going to help Michael," Ted finally said. "While it's hard to imagine Ben hurting him, it's not impossible. And Debbie, Michael told us that you and Vic knew about him being on Steroids before. So it can't be a shocker to you, not completely. Same with Brian."

"I know better than anyone else Ben's proclivity to violence when on the juice," muttered Brian under his breath, however the other four picked it up.

Emmett asked him to explain so Brian sighed and then said, "Michael told me about Ben being on the juice two years ago. So I knew what to look for. One night when I was in the locker room at the gym, he came in and was none-too-pleased to see me there. Well, I saw that he was exchanging money for the shit, so he wasn't fooling anyone. I confronted him and said if he wanted to screw up his life I didn't give a shit but there was somebody else involved in this—Michael. He said I was sticking my nose in where it didn't belong and that Michael already talked to him and understood. That Michael, what a sweetheart," Brian added and he wasn't being sarcastic, it's true.

"I told him he'd better not hurt Michael and that's when he got in my face and he slammed me into the lockers, and if you don't believe this," he said, pointedly glaring at Debbie, "I can take off my shirt and show you the scars on my back.

Swallowing, both Ted and Emmett bowed their heads. Shit. If he injured Brian enough to cause scarring, there's no telling the damage that was done to Michael.

"I believe Brian," Emmett announced, glancing at Debbie who was wringing her hands. He almost felt sorry for her, watching the bubble burst on her perfect son-in-law. Almost but not quite because maybe if she didn't think everything was always Michael's fault and didn't side with David or Ben or Mel or her precious fucking Sunshine over her own son, he wouldn't have the self-esteem issues he had. And maybe he would have stood up for himself more and not let others walk over him.

Brian just gave an appreciative nod, but he feared that Debbie wasn't quite as accepting as the others and he really was not in the mood to deal with her bullshit now. Right now he felt bone-tired but it wasn't sleep he desired, no he only wished to be told that Michael was awake and alert and going to be OK.

Debbie, however, surprised him by keeping her mouth clamped shut. She was trying to deal with the fact that Ben, the man she thought was perfect for her son (well, minus his HIV status) was not so perfect. There were chinks in his armor. Chinks that she and her dearly departed brother Vic had seen two years ago when Ben was using the first time. Still, she never thought he would lay a hand on her baby. He wouldn't do that; he couldn't. Could he?

Her thoughts were interrupted by a young doctor who came out Michael's room. She hadn't even noticed him entering her son's room, that's how distracted she'd been by Brian's news.

"Is Hunter Novotny here?" the doctor inquired, looking around for the teen.

Her eyes widening, Debbie muttered, "Hunter Novotny?" under her breath and then Brian shot her a glare that made her shut up.

"I sent him to get some sleep, Doc. Why?"

"Well, he's Michael's next of kin, so I just wanted to give him an update on his dad."

"I'm Michael's mother," piped up Debbie who had walked over to stand next to the doctor. She reached out her hand to shake the doctor's.

"How is my son?" she asked him at the same time Brian asked "How's Michael?" They glared at each other and Ted sighed, rubbing the nape of his neck.

**~&~&~&.~&~&~&~**

Two young men exited the elevator, giggling and making out the entire time. Once they reached the door, the shorter, blond man pushed the other man up against the metal door and attacked him with kisses along his neck while groping underneath his shirt. "You're so fucking hot," he breathed into the other man's ear, causing him to shiver at the heat.

"So are you," the other guy told him, pressing his groin against the younger man's.

The blond's eyes widened at the friction their joined hips caused. "Inside. We need to take this inside," he said, his eyes half-lidded. The other man nodded and felt his companion up while the blond fumbled in his pockets for his key.

"Success," he said with a grin, holding up the key.

"Excellent," the other man said, wrapping his arms around the boy's waist.

The blond unlocked the door and once inside, he set the alarm and then pulled the guy flush to his chest, their hips once again meeting. He was really fucking hot and the blond was really fucking horny. It had been a while since he'd brought someone here. He wondered if the other occupant would mind. Maybe he could even be enticed into a threesome. Oh hell yeah.

Smirking, he grabbed his soon-to-be lover's hand and dragged him into the bedroom. The guy didn't have a chance to look around at his surroundings because the next thing he knew, the blond had jumped onto his waist.

"Whoa," he said and then he felt himself stir as the younger man grinded against him. "I'm going to fuck you so hard," he told his partner.

"How hard?" the other man asked but there was no response, just a low growl emitting from his throat and then he sat down on the bed, getting comfortable for the night ahead of him.

They made out fast and furious when suddenly they heard someone yelp, "Get the fuck off of me!"

_That was not Brian Kinney's voice_, was Justin Taylor's immediate reaction. His next thought was to wonder whose voice that belonged to. A face popped up from beneath the covers, which led to his final thought: what the _fuck_ is going on?

"Hunter?" he questioned, blinking rapidly as he jumped off his would-be-lover's lap.

"In the flesh. Could you kindly get your—whatever the hell he is—off of me? He's suffocating me."

Rolling his eyes, Justin told the other guy to get off the bed and he complied, none-too-pleased.

"What the…where the…why the," stuttered Justin, causing Hunter to chuckle.

"Where the fuck is Brian and what the fuck are you doing in his loft?"

"I could ask you the same thing," retorted the teen, causing Justin to glare at him.

"I have a key."

Once again laughing, Hunter said, "Me too. Only mine is the master—yours is just a copy."

Narrowing his eyes, Justin stood at the foot of the bed, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Who the fuck do you think you are, kid, to come into Brian's place like this and act like you own it? You have a lot of nerve."

"Really? That's funny. Especially coming from you."

Furrowing his brows, Justin wondered what that dig meant. He wasn't going to analyze that now, he just wanted to get to the bottom of it.

"Hunter, I swear if you don't tell me what the fuck is going on," growled the blond, highly impatient.

"Tell your little..boytoy to fuck off and then maybe I'll tell you."

Shaking his head at the teen's nerve, Justin turned to the other guy and asked him if he could give them privacy. Fuck he was not happy about this, he really was looking forward to spending time getting physically acquainted with him. The other man wasn't pleased either.

"You're turning me down for a kid?"

"Hey, I'm not a kid and if you think I am, what do you think he is?" Hunter asked, looking pointedly at Justin who wasn't all that much older than him.

"Whatever," the other guy said annoyed as he walked to the door. Justin met him there and punched the code to the alarm before opening the heavy door. "Sorry," he told him, stroking his face.

"Another time?" the guy asked hopefully.

Kissing him, Justin nodded and said, "Count on it. Bye." He shut the door, set the alarm (again) and went back to the bedroom where Hunter was still lying in Brian's bed.

"All right I got rid of him, what is going on?"

"It's a long story."

Justin didn't know whether Hunter was being an annoying brat or was speaking the truth. "Sum it up. Where is Brian and why is he not here? I mean, I know he likes 'em young but you?" he was incredulous at the thought.

Rolling his eyes, Hunter brushed some stray hairs off his forehead. "Dude, I'm not gay."

Justin just stared.

"Come on, just because I was a hustler that let guys fuck him, that doesn't make me gay."

"Whatever, I don't care."

Snorting, Hunter snapped, "Oh yeah? You do, otherwise your panties wouldn't be in such a twist at the thought of Brian with _me_. You're not very bright for a twink."

Justin was about to protest that he was much more than a twink but he just wanted to get to the bottom of it and not verbally spar with Michael's kid. Wait, Michael.

"Why the hell aren't you at home with Ben and Michael?"

Hunter narrowed his eyes at the mention of Ben's name. "I'm not going near the professor again," he snarled.

_What the hell did that mean?_ wondered Justin.

"Brian's at the hospital," Hunter finally provided.

Mouth gaping, Justin ran a hand through his blond locks. "No," he whispered. "Why the fuck did you wait so long to tell me that Brian was in the hospital? What happened? Was he in a car accident, did—"

Cutting him off, Hunter explained, "I didn't say he's _in_ the hospital, he's _at_ the hospital."

Justin wanted to snap at the kid. He's arguing semantics now? Wait. He paused, thinking of what Hunter must mean and why Hunter would be sent to Brian's. Something happened to Michael?

"Michael?"

Nodding, Hunter said that Michael was in the hospital because Ben attacked him. So bad that he was unconscious.

"No," Justin whispered, not being able to imagine the guy whom Brian dubbed "Zen Ben" as ever being physical with Michael of all people.

"It's true," Hunter told him. "I was there. Well for some of it. It happened when I was in my room. But yeah, Michael's in the hospital, Ben's on the lam, Brian's at the hospital, and Brian told me to come here to chill until Michael wakes up, so that's why I'm here."

"I can't believe it," Justin told him, shaking his head.

Glaring at him, Hunter wondered, "Will you believe it when you see his injuries? Cuz it's bad."

"But he's going to be okay…"

Shrugging, Hunter said that's what the doctors told him but who knows. Right now he was waiting for Brian's call to tell him that Michael's awake.

Biting his lower lip, Justin glanced at Hunter, debating what to do. "I should be there," he finally decided.

Throwing his head back, Hunter told him that was unnecessary.

"But Brian, he _needs_ me."

That wasn't true. The only person Brian needed, decided Hunter, was Michael.

"Look, I just think you'll be in the way." Justin's eyes widened and he started to protest, but Hunter went on. "I mean, Michael's unconscious. There's nothing you can do for him. And I know that Brian called Debbie and Carl and well that's probably been fun," he was sarcastic as he said this.

Justin had to give a little chuckle. He didn't envy Brian for that conversation. But all the more reason to be there, for Debbie. After everything she'd done for him, the least he could do was offer her some support.

"And Ted and Emmett," continued Hunter, ignoring Justin's pensive mood.

"I have every right to be there. I'm Michael's friend too."

Raising a brow, the teen was like "Dude…"

"Seriously, Hunter. You should know that, I've eaten dinner with you guys. Michael and I are over the past. At least we should be. And, well, he's done a lot for me," admitted the twenty-two-year-old.

Sighing, Hunter gave in after Justin went on a bit more. While Brian's loft was cool and all, it wasn't home and home was with Michael and since Michael wasn't home, well, he wanted to be there with him. Relenting, the teen asked Justin to drive them to the hospital. He hoped he wouldn't regret it.

**~&~&~&.~&~&~&~**

The doctor told everyone that Michael's status hadn't changed. He was the same as he'd been a few hours ago. This was not happy news for Brian, even though it wasn't bad news. He just wanted Michael to wake up. Even if Michael wanted to rail at him for the custody stuff, Brian could take that.

Debbie went into Michael's room and Carl made some phone calls—police business, he said. That left the threesome of Emmett, Brian, and Ted behind. They were all struggling to make sense of things.

"I hope he never goes back to him," Emmett said softly, causing Brian and Ted to stare at him.

"There's no fucking chance that Bruckner is getting within ten feet of him," Brian promised.

"Brian, you can't just say that. I mean fine you can say it, but what if he gets off? You know how the law is."

Ted had a point but Brian hoped it wouldn't be like that. "He fled. That makes his case harder to defend. And let's face it, the fact that Deb is bedding the chief of police…"

For some reason, all three men shuddered at the thought, even though Ted and Emmett were the ones who gave her oral training.

"There must be something we can do for Michael," Emmett said after a few minutes of silence.

"Actually," began Brian, turning his attention to the blond, "There is. You can take care of Red Cape Comics for Mikey today at least. We may need to figure out something else while he heals. You remember how to run the place, right?"

The younger man said that he hadn't forgotten and he would take care of it. Except for one little thing: he needed a key. Should he call Hunter and ask for him to pick it up at the house? But Hunter was at the loft…

Fishing out his keys from his pocket, Brian looked on the chain and extracted the two keys that Emmett would need. "There you go," he said, tossing him the keys.

Nodding, Emmett thanked him, having forgotten that Brian owned the spare keys to the store. Of course he wasn't surprised. He also knew that Brian owned a spare set to Michael's house as Brian owned one the set to Brian's loft.

"What about me?" wondered Ted who hated just standing there, not being able to contribute to anything. This was _Michael_ after all. His best friend. The man he had once lusted after and been in love with and well, a piece of his heart would always belong to his friend.

"You need to go to work, Schmidt."

"How is that going to help Michael?"

"It's not. It's going to help me."

Shaking his head, Ted grumbled, "And it is always about you, isn't it?"

Rolling his eyes, Brian said, "I heard that, Theodore. And it's not what you think. I can't be at work today so you have to fill in—for _me_."

Wow, Ted was surprised at that. Even when he was going through chemo, Brian hated to have anyone take over and usually Cynthia was the only one he trusted. But this was Michael after all, the Zephyr to his Rage, the yin to his yang. Of course Brian wanted to be there, needed to be there.

"Okay, sure Boss."

"Tell Cynthia what's going on and have her order some flowers or balloons or some other shit for Mikey."

Chuckling, Ted promised that he would do so. "Tell her that I'll check my messages—eventually—and when I get my laptop later, I'll check email."

Nodding, Ted said he would and he started to say something else when he spotted Debbie and Carl coming out of Michael's room. Debbie looked worn down and Carl had his hand placed on her back.

"Debbie. How's Michael doing?" Ted asked, walking up next to her and Carl. Emmett moved closer to them as well and they huddled together to talk which gave Brian the perfect opportunity to slip past them and into Michael's room.

Michael looked the same as he had a few hours ago, but if Brian could believe his eyes, he looked to be slightly at more peace. _Must be great painkillers_, he thought to himself.

"What'd they give you, Mikey? Are you floating out on the ether?" He stood over Michael's bed and tentatively stroked the side of his face that wasn't bruised. At first he was going to stroke Michael's hair, but as he now sported a buzz cut, it wasn't the same.

"I hope Deb didn't scare you off with her loud mouth. I bet if you heard that voice you wanted to rebel and stay unconscious even longer than you should. I wouldn't blame you. But Mikey, she's gone now. I won't let her bother you."

Outside the foursome were talking when Debbie noticed that one person was missing. Looking around for the tall, lankly brunette, she sighed when she was unable to spot him. "I can't believe he left. So much for being concerned about his best friend."

Ted and Emmett shared knowing looks. Brian wouldn't just leave like that. No, the more likely scenario was that he went into Michael's room.

"Carl, why don't you and Debbie get some coffee or breakfast or something?" suggested Ted. "I need to get to work and Em's going to run the store for Michael."

"Oh, that's sweet of you darling," cooed Debbie, patting Emmett's face.

"Anything for Michael," he said sincerely.

Carl took Debbie to the cafeteria for some coffee and something to eat while Ted and Emmett walked to Ted's car. "I hope Michael wakes up soon," said Emmett as he buckled in.

"Me too. Might I add that I hope he wakes up when Brian's in there? Seems like Brian needs to be the one who's there when that happens," Ted said as he turned the ignition on.

**~&~&~&.~&~&~&~**

"So Temmett are going to take care of work type stuff today, so don't worry your pretty little head about any of that," Brian informed Michael. "Temmett. God those two can be annoying but sometimes…well, don't tell anyone I said so and I'll deny it of course, sometimes they're not so bad. Hell, they distracted your mom."

He laughed as he walked over to the blinds to let in the light. "You know who else isn't so bad? The littlest hustler…well, former hustler. He's a…he's a good kid. And don't think I don't know where he got that from. Certainly not from the—you know what, I'm not even going to talk about that, about him right now—I meant to say not from the woman who birthed him; she was a piece of work. I'd know a thing or two about that, huh? He got it from you, Mikey," Brian told him, his voice soft as he stood next to his best friend.

"You're a really good dad to him. Not that it's a surprise. But you just have so much patience. Teens can be very…fucking annoying. I should know because I was one of those annoying teens and Justin—never mind him I don't want to talk about him either. Well, you handled Brian Kinney as a teen, I think Hunter Montgomery is probably easier, heh. Of course, if he sets fire in my loft, I might just change my mind…"

"Your loft is on fire?" a voice startled him from his thoughts. It was a thin voice, weak, but it was undeniably familiar.

"Mikey?" he asked with hope.

"Brian?" Michael asked, feeling confused as he looked at his surroundings. "What—why? Where am I?" he asked.

Brian didn't explain the circumstances. "Thank God you're awake," Brian said with genuine happiness. He smiled at his friend and then added, "You're going to be okay Mikey. I promise."

Michael was so confused. Why was he in the hospital? Where were…why was Brian here, of all people? Last he remembered they were barely speaking. His head was fuzzy and he didn't feel like trying to think. There was something in Brian's voice that spoke of underlying fear that he held for Michael and yet there was also underlying assurance that Brian would take care of him.

"Okay," he replied back softly. Whatever was going on, he had feeling he was going to need Brian.

**~&~&~&...TBC...~&~&~&~ **


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

"What, what happened?" Michael asked in confusion, peering at his surroundings which was proving to be difficult considering his left eye was throbbing. Why was it throbbing? What happened? Where was he?

"Where am I?"

"You're at the hospital, Mikey."

"Hospital? What happened?" he asked again when suddenly he was overcome by pain and let out a hiss.

"Mikey?" Brian asked softly in concern. "What's wrong?"

If he were able to, Michael would shake his head. But it hurt too much. "I feel…I feel as though I was knocked over by a MACK truck. Was I?" he wondered, trying to concentrate on his best friend's features which were knitted in concern.

"No. Hold on, let me get your doctor," Brian told him as he stood up.

"No!" Michael vehemently protested, grabbing Brian's arm, pulling him back. "No, please. Don't go." His heart was racing in fear.

Swallowing, Brian nodded. "All right, but I swear if the pain worsens, I want you to tell me the moment it happens and I'll get the doctor or nurse."

"Okay," he said, taking a breath to calm down. "Can you uh, can you do me a favor?"

"Anything," Brian told him and he meant it.

"I'm, I'm thirsty. Is there—" his warbled voiced trailed off.

Brian found a pitcher of water and plastic cup and poured it and then he handed it to his best friend who tried to take it in his hands when he moved back, gasping in pain, as the water spilled on himself. Hazel eyes widened in fear. "Mikey, what is it?"

Michael clutched his injured hand to his chest. "My, my hand. My wrist..." He looked at it and noticed that it was in a cast.

_Shit_, Brian had momentarily forgotten about that. "I shouldn't have…here, Mikey," Brian said softly as he refilled the cup and brought it to Michael's lips which greedily downed it.

"Thank you," Michael told him as he leaned against the pillows, once he'd been satiated.

"Better?" Brian asked him as he pulled a stool over to the side of Michael's bed, needing to be closer to him.

"Yeah. Tell me, please," he pleaded and how could Brian refuse those big brown eyes? He was always a sucker for them.

Biting the inside of his cheek, Brian said, "Maybe, maybe I should just get your doctor."

"I don't want the fucking doctor, Brian, I want the fucking truth and I want _you_ to tell me. Please."

Heaving a sigh, Brian agreed. But first he had to know something. "What do you remember?"

"I…I came home and was upset about what happened at Mel's with Jenny Rebecca," he admitted, not noticing as Brian flinched in remembrance of the awful scene at the muncher's house. "I was alone and I went into her room and I fell asleep in her rocking chair."

Brian nodded in recognition as Hunter had deduced as much.

"Then I woke up and it was late…early…morning I think. I don't remember the time. I heard Ben and Hunter's voices growing loud so I went downstairs and I overheard Ben." Michael closed his eyes trying to remember the conversation. "He…he was so cruel to Hunter. I told him to stop it and to apologize to Hunter. He did. I told Hunter to go up to bed."

Again, Brian knew as much. The rest though, was inferred from Hunter. Brian needed to hear it from Michael's mouth. He needed the cold, hard, ugly truth.

Michael was trying to concentrate on what happened and then he clammed up. "Do you remember what else happened?" Brian prodded him gently and Michael stuttered that he didn't.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes," Michael said, unconvincingly. Brian hesitated, not knowing if pressing Michael for details that he may or may not remember could do him harm but at the same time, he didn't want his best friend to bottle things up as was his general proclivity. Things were too serious right now. He needed Michael to know that he could confide in him, that he could _trust_ him. The problem was how did he get him to realize that?

"Okay," he finally stated, agreeing with Michael. _Maybe if Michael sees that I'm on his side, he'll trust me_, thought Brian.

Michael was surprised that Brian wasn't badgering him for more details. As it was though, things were hazy. His head felt so full. And despite having just woken up, he felt tired, as if he'd gone a few rounds with Tyson or someone or…

Closing his eyes to try to get some sleep (regardless of Brian's presence), Michael was out of luck as his mind was on overdrive, flashing bits and pieces of the previous night. He and Ben fought—about Ben being an ass to Hunter, about Ben being out with "friends" of his that Michael had never met. It had escalated rather quickly and he had had enough and was going to bed (alone) when Ben prevented him by grabbing and twisting his wrist and when Michael put up a fight that just incensed his husband even further. Biting his lower lip, tears formed in his eyes as he recalled the moment when his own husband sucker punched him. No wonder his eye was throbbing.

"Oh God," he moaned aloud, not realizing that Brian was looking at him in concern. Michael remembered kneeing Ben in the groin and trying to run off when Ben caught him and slammed him hard against the wall. "Oh God," he wailed again, this time being unable to prevent the tears from falling.

"Michael?" Brian's voice was barely a whisper. "What's wrong? Are you okay?"

Brian's voice was so gentle and so unlike him that it was hard for Michael to grasp. "No," he admitted through tears. "I'm not okay. I don't know if I ever will be."

The sound of Michael's dejected and very pained voice killed Brian. "Oh Mikey…" he stood up, not knowing what to do, how to help his best friend. He hated this. He needed to do _something_.

"You know what happened, don't you? You know what Ben did to me."

Nodding slowly, Brian said, "Yes. I mean, I know what Hunter told me. And I pieced together some things based on…"

"Based on my injuries," provided Michael. Suddenly, a thought dawned on him. "Hunter! Oh God is he—he's not hurt, is he? Please, Brian, tell me that Ben didn't hurt my son," Michael implored.

"Hey, hey," Brian said softly. "Hunter is just fine. I promise. He's actually at my loft right now."

Michael managed to raise his (good) eyebrow, questioning Brian's actions. Brian then explained why he thought the loft was a good choice and how he promised to call Hunter when Michael was awake. "Shit," he began. "I should call him.

Looking back over at his friend who seemed to be suffering some kind of hell that Brian didn't want to imagine, he added, "I'll go right outside and call him and then let your doctor know you're awake and I'm sure he'll come in and examine you."

"No," Michael's voice was quiet but firm. This time, Brian raised a brow at him.

"Don't go," he added softly. "Please. Don't leave me, Brian."

If his chest could explode, it would have right then and there. Michael wanted him to stay. That was pretty major. Well, Brian would do anything for him, so he nodded his assent.

"What…is there? What can I do for you?" Brian stuttered, not knowing what to ask.

"I'm such a fucking idiot."

Brian did not expect _those_ words to come out of his friend's mouth. "What the fuck? Don't say that, Michael. You are not an idiot."

"It's true. I really am an idiot. And not just because I didn't finish college or was a manager at the Big Q for a couple of months before owning a comic book store," he snorted derisively at that, which made Brian angry (but not at Michael) because he never looked down upon Mikey for his education or his career path.

"I'm an idiot because the signs were there and yet I ignored them. I'm an idiot because I let that…person…into my life and into the lives of my children. I'm an idiot because I gave and gave and yet again what did I get for it? I'm an idiot because once again I actually believed it when a guy told me he loved me. I mean that is fucking ridiculous."

Rubbing his hands together, Brian had to back away from the bed, because he didn't want Michael to see how angry he was, but he had to convey that that attitude was bullshit.

"Bullshit. That's not the truth and you and I both know it. I'm sure the Professor fed you a bunch of lies. And yeah, you lapped them up with a spoon but not because you're stupid. You're not. He's a mother fucking asshole and I swear I will kill him."

"Brian."

"What? You don't think I'm serious? I don't care how fucked up on the 'roids he is. I'll take him."

Michael didn't doubt that, but the last thing he needed was his best friend in jail for murdering Ben. "You're not going to touch him, you hear me? I'm not letting him hurt you…"

Brian was touched at his friend's thoughtfulness, as unnecessary as it was. "Hey. It's going to be okay, all right?"

"Don't placate me, Brian. I understand why you might want to but please, I can't take that."

Sighing, Brian nodded. "Okay, I won't," he promised. "What do you want me to tell you?"

"There's nothing for you to tell. I got into a bad fight and I lost, as per usual."

Narrowing his eyes, Brian wanted to protest, but Michael wasn't having any of it. So he tried another tactic. "What, exactly, have you lost?"

Opening his eyes in surprise, Michael said, "Are you kidding me?"

Shrugging, Brian said, "I'm perfectly serious. What have you lost? An asshole that didn't deserve you in the first place? Good riddance to bad rubbish as some might say."

"But…"

"But nothing. I know you, Michael. And I know how your mind works and where it's going right now. It doesn't need to go there though."

Brian was gutted when he heard Michael mumble "You _used_ to know me," under his breath. Did Michael really feel that way? Was he right? Was there that large of a gulf between them? Could they ever get their friendship back on track? Could there be new episodes of The Brian and Mikey Show?

**~&~&~&.~&~&~&~**

"What is taking so long?" Debbie whined to Carl. "Why hasn't Michael woken up?"

Shaking his head, the detective said, "I don't know, Deb. It must have been quite the blow to his head."

Eyes widening, Debbie put her hands on her hips. _Shit_, thought Carl, he hadn't meant to say that.

"How did this happen to my baby?"

"I don't know, but I promise you, I will find out and make sure that whoever did this," his voice trailed off, seeing the pain on his lover's face.

"I," she began, shaking her head. "I just can't. It couldn't have been Ben. Brian is wrong."

Carl just stared at her, wondering if she was being serious.

"Ben must be back on steroids," offered Carl. "I've seen what they can do to a person." As a cop he had seen just about everything.

Shaking her red wig, Debbie refused to see the truth. "No. Ben is not back on drugs. He did not do this to my son—"

Carl began to protest but Deb held up her hand to stop him. "No. He wouldn't. He loves Michael. He would never hurt him like that, never." Her eyes flared in resolve, daring him to argue with her. Her boyfriend just stood there and sighed. She was the most stubborn woman he had ever met.

Changing her tone to a softer one, Debbie whispered, "I know my son-in-law. I know my son. Brian is wrong. He has to be. Ben did not do this."

Carl wanted to ask her why she was so willing to disbelieve Brian, the man she had known two-thirds of his life, the man who grew up with her son and for so long was another son to her, but he didn't get the opportunity as they heard footsteps walk towards them and faced a very upset teenager and Brian's…well Carl did not know how to classify Justin and Brian's relationship…lover.

"You're wrong. Brian is right. Ben did this to him," Hunter was adamant.

Shaking her head, Debbie vainly tried to plead with him. "He wouldn't."

Biting his upper lip, Hunter spit out, "You don't fucking know what he would do. You weren't there. I was. Ben was all hopped up on 'roids and he did this. He put your son in that hospital bed!"

He was yelling now and people were beginning to stare but Hunter didn't give a damn. He was not about to let Debbie railroad them by saying that Ben couldn't do it. Ben _did_ do it.

"Hunter," Justin whispered, placing a hand on the teen's shoulder to which Hunter shrugged off. He didn't need or want the twink's sympathy.

"I don't care what any of you think. None of you were there. _I_ was. Ben did this and I will swear to it in a court of law," he said, focusing his intent gaze on Detective Horvath.

Her body shaking, Debbie moaned, "I…Ben…Michael…I…"

Justin rushed to her side and placed a warm arm around her waist. "Shh," he soothed, "it's going to be okay."

Hunter glared at him. "Easy for you to say. You weren't beaten by your lover."

"Hunter!" Deb reprimanded. "Need I remind you…?"

"Yeah, I know. Justin got bashed in the skull by a homophobe. I've been told the story plenty of times. And it sucks what that coward did to him. But this was worse for one reason: it was by the man that Michael loves and who claimed to love him."

**~&~&~&.~&~&~&~**

"Mikey," Brian began, trying to get his best friend to listen to him. But Michael just lay perfectly still in bed and didn't say anything. He was tired. It wasn't long before they heard loud voices arguing outside. Running a tired hand through his hair, Brian sighed. Deb. And Hunter. _Fuck, can't they keep it down?_

Instead, the voices grew louder and Michael clearly grew agitated. "God damn it can't they give it a rest while I'm in the hospital for fuck's sake?"

Brian gave him a look. "You know Deborah Jean."

Rolling his eyes, Michael tried to lift the pillow to cover his ears, but he was in too much pain and winced when he tried. With a defeated groan, he closed his eyes but the yelling was only growing louder.

Brian had enough. "Fuck this shit," he snarled and stomped off. Hearing his footsteps, Michael weakly called out, "Wait, don't go…please…"

His tone nearly did Brian in. "I'll be right back." With that promise he exited the room and walked into the hall where Debbie and Hunter were verbally sparring, Justin and Carl throwing in a few words when they had the opportunity.

"Christ will you four shut the fuck up?" he yelled at them. Four pairs of eyes landed in surprise on him.

"Where the hell have you been?" Debbie asked.

Hunter rolled his eyes; it was pretty evident that Brian had been in Michael's room.

"Brian," Justin called out.

Nodding in Justin's direction, Brian said, "Sunshine. How did you find out?"

Hesitating, Justin explained that he went to the loft and was surprised to find the teen there. Of course Brian wondered why Justin was at _his_ loft…was he going to have to get the locks changed? He didn't say that though, this was neither the time nor the place for _that_ discussion.

"Now that I have your attention, I'd like to say one thing and one thing only: shut the fuck up."

"You already said that when you got out here," Justin pointed out to Brian's aggravation.

"Yeah well I mean it. You could wake the dead with your yelling. I don't think the patients or this hospital needs it—"

Debbie cut him off at the quick. "Yes because you're Mr. Altruistic when it comes to perfect strangers."

"No," admitted Brian. "But I am when it comes to your son. He's awake now."

All four gaped in shock. "What? How? When did this happen? Why didn't you tell us? Why aren't his doctors in with him?" All four cornered him for information that he was unwilling to give. He simply turned on his heel and went back into Michael's room.

**~&~&~&.~&~&~&~**

"I'm coming!" yelled a flustered Melanie Marcus as she ran downstairs into the livingroom with the baby in her arms to answer the doorbell. Whoever it was better have a good reason because the ringing door woke up the baby who was still fussing.

After unlocking the latch she flung the door open (without asking who it was) and let out a lackluster, "Oh, it's you."

"And a nice hello to you too, Melanie," greeted Ted, his focus not on Melanie but on the baby…_Michael's_ baby.

Melanie looked at her friend in confusion. They didn't have a "date" to meet, why was Teddy on her doorstep with a forlorn look on his face as he stared at her daughter?

"You woke her up, you know."

"I thought she was up pretty early?" he wondered, from his recollection.

"Yeah well she's having trouble sleeping because she's teething."

"Oh," Ted said, not uninterested just unsure as he didn't know all that much about babies. He liked them fine enough but wouldn't call himself a natural, not like Michael was. Even when he took the time, Brian was pretty decent; at least he seemed to be with Gus.

Sighing, Melanie asked him if he was going to stand on her stoop all day or tell her what was up. He asked if that was her way of inviting him inside so she did, hoping for some answers.

"It's not a legal matter, is it?" Melanie asked once they were back inside.

Shaking his head, Ted said it wasn't. He continued to stare at the baby. She was so pretty and resembled both parents but she favored Michael more, especially her long lashes.

Growing concerned by Ted's attention on her daughter, Melanie held Jenny Rebecca tightly to her chest. "I think I know why you're here and I want you to leave."

Taking his eyes off the baby and back onto his friend, Ted wanted to know why she was going to kick him out before he even told her why he was there.

"Because, I don't want to argue with you about Michael's visitation with Jenny Rebecca."

"I'm not here to—" he began but she cut him off.

"Look, I'm sure he told you how big bad evil Melanie was a bitch to him yesterday and wouldn't let him visit with her because the social worker didn't show up."

"What?" Ted asked, thoroughly confused.

"Come on, Teddy. I'm sure Michael confided in you and Emmett about what happened."

"Actually, he didn't. I'm not coming here to talk to you about that."

"Oh," Melanie said her voice quieter. "Then why?"

"I am here to talk to you about Michael. To let you know…" his voice trailed off, not knowing how to share the news, not knowing if she would even give a damn what happened to his best friend, a man she used to care about—enough to create a child with him.

Swallowing, Ted found his voice. "Michael is in the hospital. I thought, well as the mother of Michael's child, I thought you should know."

"Hospital?" Melanie asked in disbelief. "Was he in a car accident?" When Ted shook his head, she briefly wondered, "Overdose?" to which his eyes widened in horror.

"Michael wouldn't." Melanie bit back the retort that no one thought that _Ted_ would overdose but he had. She instead pressed him for details.

"Look, I probably shouldn't be telling you this, but again, you're Jenny Rebecca's mother. He was assaulted last night."

"Assaulted?" she whispered in horror. "Like Justin?"

Shaking his head, Ted whispered, "Not quite. It was…a domestic situation."

Alarms rang off in her head. Domestic? Then that meant…Ben? Professor Benjamin Bruckner, Mr. Zen Buddhist?

"Ben put Michael in the hospital? Jesus."

"Anyway, I thought you should know. What you do with that information, it's up to you. I can't tell you what to do about your custody situation. I do know that once he's feeling better, nothing would make him happier than seeing his daughter."

Melanie looked deep in thought and Ted worried what she might say. "And in case you were wondering, he did not put me up to this. Michael's still unconscious."

_Fuck! What was she supposed to do with this?_

**~&~&~&...TBC...~&~&~&~**


End file.
